


Follow The Yellow Brick Road

by tromana



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Community: angstbigbang, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisbon has always been a loyal person. Just how much can her loyalties be tested if her childhood friend turned out to be a certain, infamous serial killer? And just how much affect do they have on one another's paths?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for the Angst Big Bang on LiveJournal. Thanks to Miss Peg for betaing and weaselett for the artwork.

John was a strange child.

He seemed like the kind of child that pulled the legs off of spiders, set things alight and pushed old ladies into the street. It was all for fun, kids like that didn't realize the repercussions that their actions had. They just didn't care and even by looking at them, when they were not doing anything untoward, they just have that air of trouble about them. There was nobody who was willing to take responsibility for them either; they were just left to their own devices. And no discipline naturally lead to trouble. It always did.

Except, he didn't do these things. Maiming animals, destroying inanimate objects and generally wreaking havoc, that was. He thought about it, yes, but didn't actually do it. Not alone, anyway. John always needed somebody else to show off to, to encourage him to go slightly too far and it was only then that he became a hell-raiser. No, when he was alone, he just had a way about him, one that reminded people of those kind of kids. Something in the eyes, the way he couldn't quite meet the gaze of others, just suggested it. Then there were slight tics and mannerisms that suggested he wasn't quite all there. That he was either dim or retarded.

Or that he was just very good at deceiving people. At making sure he went unnoticed, pretended to be invisible and the like.

Some children were always a little precocious like that.

Teresa was a strange child too. But that was more a case of hidden potential, than anything specific. She was quiet, especially for an eldest child; very intelligent, but not ostentatious about it. She generally didn't go actively seeking the limelight, or praise for her many talents. Unlike the other girls, she was more than happy to hide in the shadows, to go unnoticed. It meant that she could do her own thing, live in a world of her own and just get on with life. A busy family, bursting at the seams and especially one so full of testosterone meant that sometimes, a girl just craved space.

It was only natural that, sooner or later, the two of them were thrust together. Sometimes, friendships could form out of the most unexpected of connections. Even loners got lonely from time to time. Age differences didn't always mean much to children; especially not young boys, who were ignored by their parents and found the adulation of an even younger girl flattering.

And that was just what happened.

xxx

It didn't take long for John and Teresa to become well known as the tear-aways of the neighborhood. Naturally, it helped that Teresa had always had a bit of a tomboyish streak, thanks to her three younger siblings. Somehow, John and Teresa quickly discovered a way to ensure they complimented each other, rather than clashed. She found him calm and encouraging, at least in comparison to her brothers. That was mostly because he was several years older than her and therefore, she saw him as the elder sibling she never had. He enjoyed her attention; nobody else particularly put the effort in to making him come out of his shell.

And so, they hung around together. Terrorized cats, broke plant pots and the like. It was all just silly stuff, really. They were mostly John's ideas, but that didn't stop Teresa from being a willing participant. It let her get pent-up rage out of her system and the frustration at being surrounded by so many boys at home. Being the eldest child and the only girl had led to her being sidelined in favor of demanding younger siblings, one of whom was disabled. Yes, John got her into trouble with her parents, but not enough to make her clean up her act. It was a thrill, breaking the rules. Every time she wondered whether or not they would they get caught or if they'd get away with it this time.

Everything they did never caused any real damage and therefore, her parents didn't attempt to stop her from hanging around with this destructive elder child. All it meant for Teresa was that she got told off by her dad and gained the sole attention of a loving parent every once in a while. John, however, remained apathetic to the whole situation. His parents just didn't care, just so long as he wasn't bothering them. Having Teresa in his life, meant that he had a distraction and left them to their own devices. They weren't the most naturally gifted of parents, unlike Teresa's.

The one thing John didn't understand was how she coped with such suffocating, attentive parents and even less so at her desire for attention from them. She, meanwhile, didn't understand how he didn't want that love, that care, that understanding from the people that were supposedly responsible for him. How he could live with being ignored constantly by the two people who brought him into the world, especially when being an only child.

But neither focused on their differences too much; they had far more important things to worry about. They were deeply invested in their games, where they played cops and robbers, visited other planets and pretended they were in the Wild West. Though the neighbors thought their actions were abhorrent, for them, it was just a part of their own world. They simply didn't realize that it had repercussions outside of it.

xxx

Nothing lasted forever. The pair of them, in their childish naiveté, had thought that it could, but sooner or later, something had to change.

It took the death of her mother for Teresa to realize that. Her mom had been proud of her daughter, really she had. Despite her recklessness, Teresa had still managed to find the time to excel at school and was always good with her brothers. She still attended mass with the rest of the family and offered up prayers on a nightly basis, as a good little Catholic girl should. It was just something about John's presence that seemed to make her choose to do bad things on occasion. However, her parents had always been wise enough to leave them to it. If they tried to prize the two children apart, it could have backfired and had disastrous consequences.

Teresa missed her mom and bitterly so. She had always resented the attention she lavished on her youngest brother and never appreciated just how much she had actually done for her until she was gone. It hurt Teresa to know that she hadn't told her mom that she loved her often enough. Nor had she realized just how much work it took to run the household; something she was now having to do herself because her father had fallen off the rails. Things were beginning to get scary; she dreaded seeing that familiar plastic bag, the one that would inevitably be filled with beer and spirits. Every time their father drank alcohol, he turned violent and he inevitably always ended up picking on the youngest of her brothers. She suspected that was because Joseph was the weakest and therefore, the most vulnerable target. Even without his disabilities, he didn't have the strength - nor the confidence - to stand up to him.

And thus, the responsibility of looking after Joseph - and the other two fell on her shoulders.

Besides, Teresa knew that she had done enough damage to society and her family in her short twelve years. That she couldn't remain a child forever and it was about time that she grew up. There were only so many times she could have pretended to arrest John without getting bored of their silly little games. And there were only so many stones they could throw at Mrs. Larsson's house before they accidentally broke a window.

Now, she felt inordinately guilty for all the hassle she caused her mom before she was cruelly snatched away. Her accident had been preventable and Teresa knew that. If the driver hadn't gotten behind the wheel while drinking, then she would most likely have still been with them today. The worst thing was that the last thing she'd said to her was 'please be good, Teresa'. What kind of last words were those meant to be from a mother? And it was something she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life; knowing that she had driven her mom to despair.

But she had automatically known that she could make it up to her. Sort of, anyway. Or at least, honor her death by cleaning up her act. By making sure that her brothers didn't get into trouble, like she did with John. In making sure they were all well-fed and that the house was at least reasonably clean and tidy. By protecting them from their father and making sure they didn't pick up life-threatening injuries because of him.

That was something which she was quickly discovering was harder than she would have ever anticipated.

It was only natural that sooner or later, she would have to give up something in her life. At thirteen, she was far too young and immature to be able to handle so much in one go. The first expendable thing, the easiest thing to sacrifice, was her closeness with John. For while she had recently suffered a life-changing experience, he continued along on the same track as he always had done, despite being nearly eight or so years older than she was. He still didn't have any responsibilities, or a care in the world. As far as he was concerned, it didn't hurt anybody if he nicked a candy bar from the local convenience store. They weren't worth much and nobody really lost out. It didn't matter if he torched a trash can or two, because it didn't hurt anybody. He needed entertainment and without his only friend, he had to improvise.

It hurt that she didn't have the time for him anymore. More than he would have ever cared to admit. John was a young man now; he shouldn't have been worried about what young teenagers thought of him.

Still, he kept knocking on her door, waiting patiently for her to come out and spend some time with him, but she always made feeble excuses. Her dad wanted his dinner, the washing needed doing, her brother had to go to ER, or the like. John was used to being neglected by his parents, but his best - his only - friend?

That was something new.

xxx

The contact slowly dwindled, especially once John realized she never answered his questions the way he wanted her to anymore. Eventually, he got the hint and just stopped knocking. He knew that she didn't have the time of day for him anymore, so what was the point? It wasn't that Teresa didn't want to know her childhood friend any longer; they'd known each other for nearly twelve years and she didn't want to throw everything away for the sake of her family. It was just that her responsibilities had shifted onto far more important things.

Though she already had very little time for John, it wasn't surprising that she had even less for him once her father selfishly took his own life, when she was aged just sixteen. He may have been crippled by alcoholism, but that didn't mean she didn't still need or want her father. At least with him still alive, there was the vague hope that maybe one day, he would actually recover from the debilitating disease. Instead, her hopes and dreams had been cruelly crushed, like so many of the spiders she and John had picked on when they had been younger. She had cried at his funeral; not for what he had become, but for what he could have been, had he been brave enough to face the world. Then, Teresa had grown angry at herself. For years, she had let her father control her and now, even in death, he still seemed to have a tight grasp around her shoulder.

Now, she had to focus on the more important things. Like paying the household bills, making sure her brothers actually went to school and everyone was fed and clothed. John, despite being in his twenties, was still as reckless as he'd ever been and that worried her. It seemed like he just hadn't bothered to grow up, simply because he didn't know how to whereas she had had no choice but to give up her childhood too soon. Teresa didn't need that influence in her life now. She had moved on from it because she had to. It took a terrible tragedy to make her realize her childish naiveté could have led her down a terrible track.

John, however, hadn't learned that lesson. Nothing had shaken him and he hadn't had any tough life lessons to force him to do so. If she had had the time, then she would have intervened and told him to sort himself out. He was a grown man and it was about time he started acting like one, rather than a teenager with a short attention span. However, part of her doubted that he would even listen to her anymore. They hadn't shared a proper conversation with one another for a good six months. The last time Teresa had seen John, she had only had time for a swift 'hello' before rushing her brothers on the way to their aunt's so that she could get on with the weekly food shop. He, however, had barely been able to hold her gaze.

Naturally, she hated that, but there was little she could do. She didn't have the time or energy to invest in rekindling old friendships. Or at least, she wouldn't until Tommy and James were responsible and old enough to get jobs of their own, and she found somewhere more appropriate for Joseph's needs.

xxx

"I got into the academy!"

"The what?"

"The academy, to become a cop," she explained, sounding more patient than she felt. "Honestly, don't you know anything?"

John was the first person she had told. He wasn't meant to be; he had just happened to be there when she was on the way to visit Joseph at his new care home. Teresa had never really wanted to put him into care, but his problems were getting increasingly worse and she felt like she had no longer had a choice. Still, at least it meant that she could finally get her life on track. That was the main thing.

Her old friend looked slightly bemused at the concept of her, of all people, choosing to become a cop. Teresa, however, had seen it as a very natural step. She'd grown used to protecting people, to wanting to do what was right. It was a far cry from what she had used to do with John, but it didn't matter. People changed; some, drastically so and she had managed to put her youthful recklessness behind her. She was just lucky enough to be one of those kind of people who had managed to move on, to change, to grow up properly and become a responsible member of society. Besides, one of her eldest cousins had become a cop and since her parents' deaths, she and him had grown inordinately close. It was him who had actually urged her to take a chance and to apply for a place in the academy.

And he'd been right. She was accepted first time, with no questions asked.

"I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

He stated it so simply. Then, she recalled what she assumed were exactly the same memories as he was thinking of. The silly games of cops and robbers that they had always indulged in. Teresa had always played the role of the cop and John had been the criminal, despite the fact she was so much younger and smaller than he was. Part of her was convinced that it was simply coincidence, mere serendipity. The other half, somewhat more uneasily, questioned whether or not it was fate. That they were always going to choose these two different paths and be almost forced to take them.

As she bade him farewell, she could only hope that she would be proved wrong. After all, everything he had ever done was merely petty crimes. Teresa knew that he'd been in trouble with the law occasionally, and been let off with one or two cautions or fines. There was still more than enough time for him to clean up his act.

Wasn't there?


	2. Part Two

After she graduated, she was lucky enough to land a job in Chicago. That was something that Teresa was grateful for. Though she wouldn't have minded moving out of state for work if she'd had to, she still liked the idea of remaining fairly close to her family. After all, not many of them had moved out of Chicago itself, never mind the state of Illinois. However, a part of her was curious and wanted to make the break, to give herself a completely fresh start. She had a lot of bad memories associated with the place she grew up, that maybe a change would have done her good.

Still, she sat in her small, non-descript apartment and tried to focus on the book in her hands. It was a crime thriller; one that claimed to be based on a true story. However, as far as Teresa was concerned, it was utterly ludicrous. The whole thing was completely sensationalized and unbelievable, something which she should have realized when she picked it up at the bookstore. Then again, that was what most readers of the genre were expecting. The usual demographic didn't ordinarily include young rookies who had recently graduated and were in their first job. With a sigh, she thumbed half-heartedly at the page. The exaggerations of her career choice weren't even the things that particularly bothered her about this story; it was the fact the crime in question wasn't particularly engaging either. The rest of the plot had been twisted so that the crux of the matter jarred heavily with it.

So, when the phone finally rang, she almost found it a blessed relief. Teresa was on vacation and was slowly being driven stir crazy. Then again, it didn't particularly help that she had opted simply to stay at home instead of heading anywhere interesting. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. She worked in a bustling police department and the concept of a quiet two weeks off, doing nothing but lazing around in her apartment had appealed to her a lot. And besides, it was cheaper and even though she technically only had to support herself, money was still always tight. As she picked up the phone, she expected that it was going to be Tommy, asking to borrow some money, or maybe James, updating her on his latest girlfriend.

"Teresa, I've done something."

John didn't even bother to say hello and it took her a couple of seconds to place his voice. Of all the people she ever expected to call her, he was pretty low down the list. Truth be told, she didn't even remember giving him her new phone number. Then again, knowing John, it probably wouldn't have taken him all that much effort to find it out. She knew the kind of things he used to get up to and finding out an ex-directory phone number would have been a piece of cake for somebody like him.

"What have you done?" she asked and he didn't answer. "John?"

"I can't say, but I need your help. Please?"

"Where are you?"

"San Francisco."

"San Francisco, as in California?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"Yes, which other one would I mean?"

"And you thought to call me?"

"Who else is there?"

"I don't know, your mom perhaps?"

"Like she'd care."

"We haven't spoken properly in years, John," she answered back, irritated. "Why me? Seriously?"

He remained silent once again and Teresa tutted in irritation. The power of silence was something she had learned at the academy; it made people feel uneasy, made them talk. And John was playing the exact skills she was in the process of honing on her. Then again, she already knew that he had those powers. It was something he'd done to her time and time again when she was an impressionable kid and him, with his age and charisma, had awed her into submission.

"Look, please just come. Please?" he asked, after a good minute or so.

Part of her was saying 'why, why should I? It's not as if he's one of my brothers.' The less cynical responded with the fact he had been an important part of her childhood and that she couldn't just discard the few people she cared for in her life. It didn't matter that they hadn't talked for so long, they were still friends. Some things you just couldn't put a measurement of time on and this, she sensed, was one of them.

"Okay," she eventually responded, albeit reluctantly.

xxx

She had never seen a dead body in the flesh before. Teresa hadn't even seen either of her parents after they'd died; relatives had identified them and when she said goodbye to them, they were both enclosed tightly in coffins. And thus far, with work, she had been lucky. The worst she'd had to deal with was elderly ladies being burglarized or kids painting graffiti on walls.

So, this was a completely new thing for her to be dealing with. Yes, she'd been trained to cope with that first call out involving the loss of human life, but it was never the same as the real thing. There was only so much you could learn through talking, studying articles or even being faced with a supposedly lifelike dummy. Nothing could have prepared her for the stench emanating from the deceased subject, nor the way the blood had congealed around the wounds. Rigor mortis had already been and gone; it had taken her three days to get a flight over to California. Teresa knew that if she wanted to get somewhere with her career - really get somewhere - instead of slowly progressing towards becoming a Sheriff in some backwater dump, then this was something she was going to have to get used to.

Still, did her first body really have to be like this? Never, in a million years, had she thought that John would be capable of murder. Yes, she was more aware than most of his malicious streak. As a naïve, inquisitive child, she had actively encouraged it on occasion. Torturing spiders and frying ants was one thing, but another human being was another entirely. And John, she wasn't sure, but he didn't look all that bothered by what he claimed to have done. All he wanted was for her to pick up the pieces and clean up the mess. When they were younger, she had always been the fast-talker, the one who tried to get them out of trouble. It was a trait she had since started using for more honorable reasons, most notably helping her brothers when needs be.

"You shouldn't have called me, why did you call me?" Teresa snapped, furious with John. He hadn't even given her proper forewarning on the phone. "You know I'm duty-bound to report this."

"What, even here in California?"

"Yes, even here in California," she echoed with a roll of her eyes. She was beyond angry with him. How could he have done such a thing? "Why did you do it?"

He shrugged and Teresa let out an exasperated sigh.

"John…"

"I don't know, okay?"

"What happened?"

Eventually, he explained. It sounded mostly like a list of feeble excuses, much like the ones Tommy often spouted whenever he got into trouble. Still, somehow, she found herself falling for it. It seemed like in the years they had grown distant, he had learned some of her silvery-tongued skills. It was most likely because he had had to, to survive in the world he had fallen into. There was nobody else fighting in his corner and he had never liked being too reliant on other people. However, there was something about her that meant he still clung on. Teresa figured that it was probably because she had been the sole person to give him the time of day as a teenager. That was, before her mom had died, of course.

"I didn't know who else to turn to," he eventually concluded, "there's nobody else I trust, not like you."

"Go, just go," she said, not even looking at him. "I'll cover this up. I'll make it… disappear."

"You can do that?"

"I shouldn't, but I will," Teresa answered with a steely tone.

With a dejected nod, he walked away and Teresa shivered slightly. Had it really come to this? Sacrificing her own principles for somebody who was little more than a childhood friend?

xxx

It didn't take her long to grow bored with Chicago. After returning, it just felt like something was missing, or rather, she had left something back in San Francisco. What had happened, back there, had changed her somehow. Had made everything she did with the little department she was currently working for seem utterly worthless. Besides, after what she had done, she felt like she almost owed her services to the state of California. After all, it was a criminal offense. Obstruction, aiding and abetting a known offender, perverting the course of justice. And of course, that was the exact opposite of what she had signed up to do. She was meant to be catching the criminals, not willingly help them get away with it, scot-free. Technically, she knew that she should turn herself in, as well as John. That that would have been the right, the honorable, course of action. However, jail was no place for a cop, however young and inexperienced she was. But she wanted to pay her debt back to society, somehow, even if she wasn't willing to go to jail for what she had done. She never asked to be put in that position by John, but it had happened. And now, she had to move on with her life, as best she could, otherwise the whole sorry situation would just drag her down.

Somewhere, out there, there was a grieving family, desperate for answers and justice, she knew that. Teresa understood the pain of being in that situation, better than most. While they had caught the man responsible for killing her mom, the case had fallen apart in court, leaving her feeling slightly bitter with the judicial system. If he had been punished, then her dad might not have become a depressed drunk, knowing that his wife's killer was still roaming the streets because of a technicality. And if she hadn't been so desperate to know why it had all gone wrong after the arrest, then she might never have become a cop herself. She had never wanted another family to be put in the same situation as she had been in. Yet, she had willingly helped John, because she couldn't bear to see somebody who was such an important part of her childhood behind bars.

It had been pure luck that she had come across the rookie inspector position with the San Francisco Police Department. Part of her was unsure about moving there; after all, it was another city which harbored bad memories for her. Or rather, one particularly harrowing one. However, Teresa also knew that she couldn't let a single negative experience tar a whole city for her. She had to give it a chance to grow on her, to build something positive there for herself. Nothing was changing for her at home, so why not? Besides, she had already decided to give something back to California. If she turned down this position, then she knew she would just end up waiting forever, with nothing ever changing for her.

Anyway, the other police officers at the SFPD seemed nice enough and she was certain that she would fit in eventually. Unlike other places, they didn't seem to think that she was incapable of the job simply because she was a woman; a reaction which she found particularly refreshing.

"Welcome to the team, Inspector Lisbon," Samuel Bosco said as he shook her hand firmly.

"Thank you, sir," she answered, reciprocating with a smile.

She didn't say it, she barely admitted it to herself, but part of her hoped that John was based in San Francisco still. That she would be able to track him down and do something. Maybe convince him to sort his life out before he got into even more trouble. Only then, would she be able to make peace with herself.

xxx

"Lisbon?"

"Yes, boss?"

"We're up."

She nodded at Bosco and quickly gathered together her belongings. It hadn't taken Teresa - or Lisbon, as she was now more commonly referred to as - long to settle into San Francisco. Most of her first impressions had been entirely accurate and that was a bit of a relief. However, she also felt a little like the black sheep, even two years on. The men she worked with were all good, honest souls and then, there was she hiding deep, dark secrets from them. Still, she had been trying to settle down, to put it in the back of her mind. As a consequence, she was working ten times harder than she had to, but that seemed to impress her senior.

Bosco was a good boss, firm but encouraging, and she got along well with him. She liked the way his eyes lit up, almost sparkled every time she did something that impressed him. He looked after her; in an almost big brotherly fashion. And because of the effort she put in, he was keen to keep her under his wing, to help her hone her skills. His time and patience was paying and Lisbon already felt as though she was a better cop, more professional. Since she had joined the SFPD, they had brought down a couple of big criminals - a drugs mule and a con artist - and she had begun to feel as though she had repaid her debt to California. That being said, she didn't want to move away any longer; she now felt comfortable in the state. Like it was her home, and she had friends here. Friends other than John, that was. Besides, the distance between herself and her brothers had only been a good thing. She spent less time being infuriated by Tommy, had a closer bond with James and smothered Joseph a little less.

It didn't take long for them to travel to the crime scene; it was quite close to their base of operations. Then again, they were just a local police department, serving the city of San Francisco; it wasn't as if they were a major agency like the CBI or the FBI. The journey was quiet and easy. Nothing much had been happening recently, so they were all pleased that they finally had something more interesting to get their teeth into. There was only ever so much paperwork backlogged and only so many crossword puzzles somebody could fill in when there was nothing else to do.

Her heart sank and she suddenly felt frozen to the bone when they entered the nondescript motel room. Lisbon had seen a set up like this before; it had only been a year or so ago, but now, it felt like a lifetime. How could he have done something like this again? She had thought - or hoped - that John had learned his lesson. That he wouldn't take another innocent person's life, for no real reason other than the simple fact he wanted to. Tentatively, she headed in and started scouring for supposed clues. Everything was accurate to the finest detail. Including the things he hadn't seen, the bits she had done to ensure that nobody realized he'd killed that girl, or she'd helped to cover it up. Yet, somehow, John had replicated it all and taken it on as his own style. It looked like he'd been doing it all his life. Even though she knew full well that this one wasn't her fault, Lisbon couldn't help but think she was partially responsible. After all, she had taught him how to clean up his act, how to cover up the evidence. How to - quite literally - get away with murder.

Just when she was slowly beginning to forget about it, it all had to come around and smack her in the face, didn't it?

"We'll have to hand this over to the CBI," Bosco said stiffly, staring at the smiley face painted on the wall in the victim's blood. "Serial killers are under their jurisdiction."

She stared at the smiley face. As far as she was aware, there had only been one other case with the same appearance as this. Was Bosco suggesting that John had killed some other victims, when she had been back in Chicago, before she had moved to San Francisco? Quietly, she cursed at herself. That was something she should have checked up before now, just so that she knew what was happening with him. At this moment in time, she didn't even know if they had put a human face to the bloodied one on the wall. Lisbon took a mental note to remedy this lack of knowledge as soon as she had the opportunity.

"But it's John," she whispered, under her breath.

"Did you say something, Lisbon?"

"It's a Red John," she said after a pause, clearer this time.

"A what?"

She'd had to think on her feet, in order to cover up her own tracks. It was a stupid mistake, she should never have said John's name out loud. If Bosco had realized what she had said, what she had meant, then everything could have unraveled before her very eyes. If she was going to continue with this charade, she was going to have to be a little more careful in the future.

"I've read up on the old case files, on the computing systems," she lied and Bosco nodded. "They don't know who's responsible - a John Doe - and the red…"

"That makes sense. I guess," Bosco answered with a shrug.

"Yeah."


	3. Part Three

It didn’t take her long to find out everything that John had been up to since she had last seen him. Already, he had four murders to his name, including the one they had just discovered in San Francisco. It was saddening and she was slowly beginning to realize that John was in it deeper than she had ever believed he was. That first death, the one she had happily covered up for him, had probably given him a taste for blood. Now, he was getting more skilled and therefore, more adventurous. Every time he set out to make his latest murder the most daring of the lot. And that could only mean bad news.

She shuddered as she considered this as being the repercussions of her actions. Instead of berating John when he’d first killed, she’d supported him. That had meant that he now believed that murder was acceptable and that he could always get away with it, simply because he had her on side. It was harking back to their days as kids, where he would always look for her support in whatever antics they got up to. As long as he had her by his side, John didn’t care what he did. And now, he was just doing the exact same thing. Except now, it had greater ramifications and the results were all the more horrifying.

Lisbon heard footsteps in the distance and glanced warily up from the computer screen. As the security guard walked in the opposite direction, she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t particularly want anybody else to know that she was doing this. It was a little suspicious, after all. However, if anybody disturbed her during this search, Lisbon decided that she would just blame it on sheer intrigue. That seeing a Red John murder in the flesh had naturally meant she wanted to keep up to date on the case. It was only natural; statewide serial killers were big business and not just for the agencies in charge of said cases. It was the responsibility of every law enforcement officer to be on the lookout for such criminals, so wanting to know as much as possible made sense.

Or rather, that was what she hoped her colleagues would believe.

xxx

“It was you who invented the Red John pseudonym, wasn’t it?”

Lisbon almost jumped out of her skin. The last person whose voice she expected to hear from directly behind her, at work, was that of John’s. It was rather arrogant of him to come here, almost proud. She didn’t know of anyone else who would dare kill a man and then waltz into a police station, without a care in the world. She sighed; he probably expected that he could waltz straight back out again as well. He was the only person she knew with the audacity to do such a thing.

And the sad fact was that he probably would. That was unless she finally grew a backbone around him and stopped him from doing so. However, she knew that it wasn’t possible to do so without sacrificing everything she had worked so hard for. If she revealed everything she knew about John, then he wouldn’t be the only one going to jail - she would be right beside him. Lisbon wasn’t quite sure what her problem was with him. Everybody else, she had always brushed aside without a care in the world unless they gave her a reason to respect them. There were very few people she had ever been able to truly say she was close to because she had always been happier pushing them away.

Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder. She had only headed into the archives to get a file on the McTeer case. It was an unpleasant one to be working on - pedophilia and child rapists were always the ones that unsettled people. The thought that anyone could do anything so abhorrent to innocent kids always horrified her. They hadn’t had the chance to make their own mistakes yet, deserved to live a proper childhood instead of having it destroyed by something so senseless. Unfortunately, a lot of criminals didn’t see it like that. They thrived knowing they had such power and found some kind of thrill in carrying out taboo acts. How else could she even begin to consider the prevalence of such crimes, otherwise?

John smiled when he realized just how on edge she was and that irritated her. As far as Lisbon was concerned, her nervousness was entirely justified. Even without the additional crimes she knew about, he had just broken into a police station. He didn’t have any right to be in the building and especially not their archives. However, when she realized that they were the only two down there, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was safe to talk, or at least as safe as it could be for two, well, criminals to conspire in a police station.

“Yes, it was,” she eventually answered.

“I like it,” he said lightly, “a little unimaginative, but it works.”

“I don’t care.”

“You can’t say that.”

“I just did,” she responded, refusing to look at him. “Don’t contact me again.”

“Why not?”

“You made me go against every single one of my principles. I did something I never thought I’d even consider doing for you. I don’t want to be put in that position again. Is it really that hard to understand?”

“When you put it like that…”

“Thank you.”

“So this is it, then?”

“Yes, it is. Goodbye.”

She walked away, gripping hold of the file tightly. Stoically, she ignored the hurt expression on his face. It was his fault, it always was. He was the one who had killed not one, but four people, on three separate occasions. Lisbon had never asked him to do that, who would? Nor did she ever ask him to get her so inexplicably involved with the whole sordid affair. She was a cop, she caught the criminals, she didn’t help them along. It was what she’d been doing for years now. Somewhere along the line, John had gotten his wires crossed and seemed convinced otherwise. And at some point, she too, had forgotten that boundary and was trying desperately to claw back her morals, to a certain extent.

Once she reached the door, she stopped and turned on her heels to face him. He was still standing there, alone, doing a very good impression of a little, lost puppy dog. A pang of guilt hit her system and quickly, Lisbon attempted to brush it aside. After all, she was right to try and cast aside his toxic influence. But still, she needed to know.

“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“I thought you said that was it?” he queried, with a smirk.

“John…”

“I needed to see you.”

“Oh.”

He brushed past her and headed up the steps, leaving her feeling somewhat disconcerted. Desperately, she also tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart and the quickening of her breath. Damn it, John didn’t have that effect on her. She’d be damned if she ever fell for a lowlife criminal like he had become. If he was still the person she’d once known, then maybe. But what he was now? Right now, all Lisbon could think was that she would rather have never known him at all.

“It was good to see you again; you’re looking well,” he admitted, with a wry smile. “And I’d suggest you invest in better security.”

xxx

Being the newest member of a team always had its downsides. Lisbon had expected that, by now, somebody would have replaced her in the rookie position, that she would have moved on from it, but unfortunately, they hadn’t. Nobody had particularly wanted to move on from their police department and therefore, promotions were hard to come by. It also meant that she was still stuck with all the dull jobs that nobody else wanted to do, such as manning the phones, doing background checks or the mid-morning coffee run.

And that was the exact reason why she found herself waiting in a bustling coffee shop to be served at eleven am.

She found the job a little demeaning sometimes. Of course, she understood that the once or twice weekly treat was meant to boost morale, but for her, it was always an inane, dull task. Instead of being entrusted with something pertaining to cases, she was stuck, waiting for the elderly gentleman to make up his mind whether or not he wanted coffee or tea and the screaming kids running riot when they should really have been at school. Lisbon wouldn’t have been quite so annoyed with it had she still been only two months into the job, but now, she had been pressing on for two years. As far as she was concerned, it was about time the responsibility was shared out. Buying coffees wasn’t a skill she had wanted to hone by moving to San Francisco.

The bell above the door jangled and automatically, she looked around to see who else had come in. A couple, a man with curly blond hair and his vaguely pretty partner, were obviously in the middle of a fight. Lisbon cringed in response. She was already annoyed enough as it was, without having been forced to endure listening into them arguing.

“Patrick, we’ve left the carnival now, do you have to continue-”

“Darling, you never really leave.”

“That’s not what you said a year ago,” she answered back with a furrowed brow.

“How else do you expect me to make money to support us?”

“By doing an honest days’ work instead of pretending to be a psychic, perhaps?”

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose in attempt to stave off the oncoming headache. Briefly, she pondered the decision about getting a decaf instead; caffeine never did her head any good. Then again, neither did listening to two people rowing down her ear. If they had been speaking quietly, then she would have been able to blot them out. It didn’t matter that the pair of them were both pretty in their own way; looks only got you so far. They certainly didn’t have the right to treat everybody else with so much disregard. There was a time and a place for heated debates and as far as Lisbon was concerned, this was most certainly not it.

“Excuse me!”

“Yes?”

“You’ve cut the queue.”

“And?”

The woman looked deeply humiliated by her husband and Lisbon couldn’t blame her. Had she been with the egotistical jackass, she wouldn’t have tolerated such behavior. However, having overheard their previous discussion, Lisbon couldn’t help but think that she had more important things to worry about. Not that it was any of her business. All she was here for were some coffees and donuts.

“You think that because you’re a cop, you’re always in the right?”

Lisbon pulled herself up to her fullest height, not that it made all that much difference. Being relatively petite always meant that when it came to sizing people up, she always had a bit of a handicap. Still, she was slowly learning how to intimidate people in other ways, thanks to her job. A steely glare, when used correctly, could work wonders on occasion.

“No, not because I’m a cop, but because there’s a queue for a reason.”

“He’s sorry,” the woman said quickly, “aren’t you, dear?”

The man shrugged his shoulders, but acquiesced because his wife said so. Still, Lisbon was relieved when she was finally able to place her order. The sooner she could leave and get away from the nutcases in the café, the better.

xxx

A blood-curdling scream filled the general vicinity. Across the road, a pair of dogs barked in response and a baby started crying. However, Lisbon and Bosco didn’t care. They had received a tip-off and therefore, had a job to do. Instead, the pair of them carefully removed their guns from their holsters and edged closer to the front and back door respectively. Things were getting dangerous and the wrong move, the wrong decision could cost an innocent person their life. It was a little foolhardy, even considering to enter without backup, but they didn’t have the time to waste. The sooner they got in there the more likely they were to save a life and that was the only thing racing through both their minds.

“In three,” Bosco mumbled down the intercom and Lisbon steadied herself. “One, two…”

As soon as the number three crackled through, she pushed her entire weight against the front door and was pleasantly surprised that she had immediately gained access to the townhouse. Realistically, she knew that the door had probably been weakened or at least, not locked properly by the original intruder, but she couldn’t help but be pleased with herself. She wasn’t exactly the biggest - or strongest - of people. With practiced ease, she crept along, desperately searching out for signs of the disturbance. The house had fallen deathly silent, apart from the sounds of Bosco doing his rounds at the other end of the building and that was worrying in itself. Within fifteen seconds, she had made it into the lounge.

“Clear,” she heard Bosco yell from another room, possibly the kitchen.

She was too late. The girl - in her early twenties - was dripping with blood. As far as she could tell, there were no signs of life left. However, that hadn’t been the first thing she had noticed in the small room. On the wall, only half painted, was an all too familiar motif. That of a smiley face, daubed with the victim’s blood. A familiar figure was standing in front of her too, shaking as he placed a gun back in the waistband of his pants.

Without even noticing, she had dropped her own firearm and slowly but surely, Lisbon glanced down at her abdomen. There was blood, too much of it considering she had indeed been wearing her bulletproof vest. Obviously, the SFPD’s equipment wasn’t quite as up-to-date and well maintained as she had assumed it was. Automatically, she staggered back a couple of steps before being unable to stand any longer. Her knees buckled and she found herself lying on the floor, clutching at her stomach in attempt to stem the flow of blood.

“Teresa?” John said, his fingers shaking as he removed the plastic formed mask he’d been wearing.

John quickly closed the gap between them. He was shaking as he did so. Her breaths were rasping and although she wasn’t in much pain yet, she knew that was purely because of the dose of adrenaline that was running through her system. The moment that that subsided, the situation would become completely different.

“I’m sorry. If I knew it was you I would have…”

“Go, just go,” she mumbled, hoping that he could get away before Bosco arrived. He had seconds, if that.

As she slowly slipped into unconsciousness, she wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved by the sound of footsteps filling the space around her.


	4. Part Four

There was a beeping sound and it was annoying. She was trying to sleep, and yet, it was becoming increasingly impossible to stay in such a state. Eventually, she realized she couldn't continue pretending, not least because of the medic trying desperately to rouse her into wakefulness. Irritably, she opened her eyes and squinted at the harsh sunlight. The last thing Lisbon could remember was it being night time and that she and Bosco had been making a bust. Things had obviously gone horrendously wrong for her to have ended up hospitalized.

And then, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

It hadn't just been a typical case going wrong. That would have simplified things, made it all so much easier to deal with. At least then, she would have had no personal affiliation with the case. Then, she wouldn't have been worrying about anything other than the fact that she could have died in the line of duty. No, they just had to catch the now infamous serial killer, Red John, in the act, didn't they? Or, just simply John, as she knew him.

As she glanced warily around the room, she realized that Bosco was there with her. More than likely, he was waiting for her to wake so he could arrest her for obstruction and perverting the course of justice. He was probably proud of himself, of course, for he had just caught Red John. If that wasn't a career-making case, then Lisbon didn't know what was. However, he was probably horrified at the fact that she had lied to him for so long and bitter about the fact he had to arrest her at all. But it was the right thing for him to do and was the least she deserved. Or at least, she assumed that was the way he saw things. She was going to have to get used to the concept of a life behind bars pretty soon. And all she knew was that it was going to be a living hell. Cops never went through the judicial system and came out of the other end in one piece. Lisbon automatically knew that she would be no exception.

"Thank goodness," Bosco breathed, as she stared at him. "I was beginning to worry."

"What happened?"

"Red John," he answered dourly.

"I know that. Did you…" she said, trailing off as she did so.

"I heard you talking to him."

She felt a sinking pit in the depths of her stomach. Of course he was going to have overheard; fate was never going to let her get out of this situation unscathed. Immediately, Lisbon pulled her gaze away from her boss. The last thing she needed to see right now was how he felt. Probably a mixture of relief and anger. She didn't particularly feel like she deserved his concern, nor his pity. After all, sometimes, she felt as though life was just pulling her along on a string and she didn't have a choice but to go along with it. She had never intended to have any association with a serial killer, except for maybe apprehending them, but who did? Nor had she always planned to be a cop, it was just something that happened to her.

"We need to talk."

"I know."

"Not now. You sleep."

"Yeah, thanks, boss."

"Teresa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're on the road to recovery."

Lisbon watched as he pulled the door open, disappeared through it and then again as it closed shut. As the medic went through all of her vital statistics, her reactions, pulse and the like, her mind immediately went elsewhere. Bosco's reactions had been unexpected but she was still certain that she couldn't count her blessings just yet.

xxx

"I heard you were back home. I needed to see you."

"Well now you've seen me, so go," she snapped at him irritably.

When she had heard the knock at the door, Lisbon hadn't particularly wanted visitors. Out of all the people who could possibly disturb her, John was the one she wanted to see the least. She knew what to expect: faux apologies, a bit of sympathy and meaningless attempts at explanations. And quite frankly, she didn't have the time, energy or the patience to deal with any of it. She had only been home for twelve hours or so and knew that she was still suffering heavily from the side-effects of major, invasive surgery. Her doctors had repeatedly said that she had been lucky to be alive. That if she hadn't been wearing the protective clothing, she would have been in a morgue instead. However, right now, she was feeling too tired to appreciate her good fortune. All she wanted to do was sleep.

"But I want to apologize-"

"For what? Killing somebody else? What's your excuse this time?"

"For shooting you. I didn't mean-"

"So if it was Bosco instead, you wouldn't have cared?"

He ignored her frustration. "If you must know, she found-"

"I don't want to know!"

"Then why did you ask?"

"It was a rhetorical question! What is your problem now, John? Why did you get mixed up in all this crap? Why do you continually insist upon dragging me down with you?"

"I should go."

"Yes, I already said that."

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

She slammed the door in his face and found herself breathing heavily after the outburst. Slowly, she turned on her feet and leaned up against the door. Eventually, she slid down into a seated position and buried her face in her knees. Lisbon felt as though she had been knifed in her stomach; clearly the painkillers were wearing off already. But mostly, she was just angry and tired and confused. Sometimes, she wished that she could reset her life and start over. At least then, she wouldn't feel as though she had been stabbed in the back both literally and figuratively.

xxx

"Did you see Red John?"

"Yes," she answered, unable to lie.

Bosco had barely given her time to settle back into work before addressing the situation. Already, Lisbon found herself enclosed in the privacy of his office. Part of her was relieved to be back at the SFPD, uniformed, as opposed to wearing handcuffs. She had taken it as a sign meaning that Bosco hadn't heard as much as she'd initially thought he had, that she had a lucky loophole to wriggle out of the situation. Still, he could have simply decided to make sure she was fully recovered, to ensure that she had the ability to defend herself against the judicial system. That this was just his way of showing her the smallest bit of humanity. She was getting to the stage where she didn't know who she should - or could - trust. After all, if she could barely trust herself, who else was reliable enough to do so?

"You know him, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, after a slight pause. Again, she was sick of concealing the truth and besides, she had a feeling that if she tried to lie, he would see straight through it anyway.

"Who is he?"

"Bosco…"

"Don't look at me like that, Teresa. It's not going to work."

Lisbon remained deathly silent. What was she meant to say or do? She hadn't even realized she had been giving Bosco a look one way or another until he had pointed it out. All she knew was that she was genuinely sorry to have put him in such a compromising position. After all, it was one she understood all too well, one she could sympathize with entirely. Her whole life had been completely changed due to one seemingly small decision by an individual. It was strange how things like that could sometimes happen.

"Why can't you say? You're close to him, aren't you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You either are or you're not," he answered back with a frown. "Oh God, he isn't Tommy, is he?"

Lisbon flinched at the name of her errant brother. Even though Tommy was a little bit of a nightmare, he wouldn't resort to murder in the way that John had. Or at least, she didn't think he would. Instead of answering, she simply remained mute. Something told her that it was better that Bosco came to his own conclusions about the whole debacle rather than her trying to clarify things. She watched as Bosco ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"I shouldn't say this, but…"

"But?"

"I won't say a word. You lost consciousness before you got a clear sight of Red John, that's all I'll write in my report, okay?" he said, unable to look her in the eye. "As far as I'm concerned, that's what happened."

"You'll cover for me?" she whispered, genuinely surprised.

"Yes. It's what you'd do for me, right?"

"Right," she answered back, although she couldn't entirely be sure about that.

Bosco had completely surpassed her expectations. She had always believed that he was a straight arrow, one who followed the law right down to the smallest of details. And yet, he was willing to bend all of his principles, just for her. This was exactly the same situation John had put her in years ago and she was still paying the price for it now. Not only that, but it had automatically become a burden that Bosco too would have to carry.

She hadn't realized that she meant that much to him. Nor was she sure what to make of the situation.

xxx

The letters and following telephone calls from Virgil Minelli came as a complete shock to her. Never, in an instant, did she think that she would ever be head-hunted by an agency such as the CBI. Lisbon knew that she was slowly becoming a good cop, but that didn't mean she necessarily believed she had what it took to become an agent for the premier crime fighting agency in the state of California. Of course, if the opportunity to apply for a role had come up, she would have grabbed it with both hands, but being requested to come for an interview was another matter entirely. It meant that somebody - outside of the SFPD - thought she was highly capable and would be an asset to them.

Things with the CBI progressed surprisingly quickly. Telephone calls soon turned into interviews and before she even knew it, Lisbon was packing her bags and bidding farewell to the team she had worked with for a good few years. It was surprisingly emotional, especially given that she was merely moving to another city. If it had been another state or even country, then she would have understood the pricking at the back of her eyes and the lump in her throat as she said goodbye to Bosco.

Then again, he looked fairly choked up as well. When he enveloped her into a bone-crushing hug, it had taken her off-guard, but Lisbon appreciated it. She honestly didn't know when - or if - she would see him again. Both of their careers meant they were incredibly busy and Lisbon had a feeling that once she was in Sacramento, it was only going to get even more so. After all, the CBI was there to deal with all the cases the smaller police departments couldn't handle, whether that be for political reasons or sheer inexperience. Bigger cases inevitably led to a bigger workload, it was a simple fact. She'd learned that one out the hard way; it had taken a lot of effort to take down William McTeer, but it had been more than worth it. It meant that no more children would have to suffer a harrowing, life-changing experience, at the hands of that bastard. And on a more personal note, if she hadn't have succeed, then Minelli would never have read the article in the press and never considered giving her a new job. Minelli hadn't even been fazed by her near-miss with Red John and had instead labeled it as 'character building.'

His lips brushed against her cheek gently and Lisbon struggled to hold it together. Working so closely with Bosco had meant that she had quickly found a respect for him and not least because of his unwavering loyalty towards her. That was half the reason she had made the decision to leave. She wasn't sure if she would be able to cope remaining in such a close proximity to him, especially with him knowing about her dirty little secret. It felt like it was a bomb, one that could go off at any given minute. The further away she was from it, the better. There were things Lisbon knew she would miss though, like the smile he reserved just for her, the one that looked as if they were conspiring, as if it were the two of them against all the crooks and criminals San Francisco had to offer. It was sacrifices she would have to make, however hard it was.

There was only one other man who had made her feel like this.

And that was John.

xxx

She hadn't expected to be placed immediately into the newly formed Serious Crimes Unit. Truth be told, she had expected to become a low ranking member of either Organized Crimes or Missing Persons. Both of those teams were understaffed - thanks to a combination of injury and maternity leave - and thus, it was only natural that a new person filled in the gaps. However, according to the Personnel Standards Unit, the SCU was required to take some of the strain away from Major Crimes.

It was also somewhat of a surprise to find herself not as lead agent, for she wasn't quite ready for such a position yet, but as second in command. During her time with the SFPD, there hadn't really been much of a chance for progression, nobody had really left or joined the department. While it had been nice, having a familiar team to fall back on, it had grown increasingly frustrating for the younger members such as herself. What was the point in having a career if there was no chance to move onto bigger and better things? Still, she felt emboldened by the fact that Minelli had the faith in her to put her straight into such a responsible role.

Quickly, she was introduced to the lead agent, Jeff Matthias and the rookie, a Kimball Cho. Cho seemed like a sturdy sort of man, somebody who could be relied upon. Lisbon hoped that would be the case; after all, she had learned the importance of being able to trust every member of the team while with Bosco. She hoped that they could replicate that feeling of unity here.

It didn't take long for them to settle down to business. They hadn't been assigned that many cases as yet; being a new team, Minelli had wanted them to settle down before upping their workload too much. She knew that the CBI had jurisdiction over Red John. The name had generally been adopted state-wide and every single time that Lisbon heard it, it unsettled her. However, she wasn't sure whether or not they would be handed the case or whether it would remain in the hands of Major Crimes.

When she discovered that she was to have nothing to do with it, she couldn't help but be partially relieved. There was something about the concept of working a case, but not wanting to solve it, which had unsettled her considerably.


	5. Part Five

"The idiot," she seethed as she watched the video recording on the television. "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

Along with Cho, she had been watching Patrick Jane's interview on the chat show. It was more out of intrigue than anything else. After all, they had very little to do with the famous psychic. He had consulted for them on just the one case and generally, he worked with Major Crimes rather more than anyone else. Every so often, she had exchanged brief pleasantries with him in the corridor and on one occasion, had shared a cup of tea with him in the kitchenette. Like a very specific old friend of hers, the one that the psychic was currently discussing on television, he had unnerved her a little. It was something about the eyes, the way he looked at her, as if he could read her mind and, in just one glance, could understand her right the way down to her soul. And given the kind of things she was now habitually hiding from everyone, including herself, that was something that she just didn't need any more.

Cho nodded slightly in response to her angry statement. Unlike her, he just saw Red John in black and white and she knew it. However, Lisbon was more than aware of the serial killer's attitude. If somebody irritated him, he had to seek out revenge sooner or later. It was just his way of coping with people judging him. If he didn't, John felt like he'd let the other person win and he never, ever backed down from a fight. It was his pride at stake. Ever since she'd known him, John had never been ashamed of anything he had done, never believed he needed teaching a lesson. Even if Patrick Jane was telling the truth about John, John wouldn't have been able to admit it to himself and would still feel compelled to do something about it.

In fact, the only person she had known that he hadn't ever been intentionally malicious towards was herself.

Or maybe, the fact that he kept killing, continued defying her, was his way of teaching her a lesson. He knew just how proud she was when she had been accepted into the academy. Time and time again, she had talked to him, albeit briefly about her training and her work. John was more than aware of just how much it meant to her and yet, he continued to break the law. He persisted in flaunting it, just to make sure that she knew that he took pride in doing so.

Then again, it was possible that he had just fallen into California's underworld so deeply that now, even if he wanted to, he couldn't get out. She hadn't even seen him since that time he'd randomly appeared on her doorstep, after he had accidentally shot her. Besides, unlike Mr. Jane, she wasn't blessed (or, quite possibly, cursed) with the ability to read minds, so she couldn't even have been sure of what John was thinking, even if he was standing right in front of her.

Even if she didn't have a personal connection with one of the most famed modern-day serial killers to strike in the USA, Lisbon would still have believed that Patrick Jane was being completely and utterly idiotic. Who went on national television and painted a target on their back for a crazed murderer to see? Apart from the cops trying to catch him, that was? Was the psychic really that arrogant that he believed he was completely untouchable and unflappable?

Obviously so, given what he had just done.

Lisbon shivered slightly. She genuinely hoped that Patrick Jane hadn't made such a foolish error. That she was wrong and that John would just laugh it off. Unfortunately, she couldn't be sure what  _Red John_ would do. Though she had named him, though she had known the boy he once was, she didn't know  _him_  at all.

xxx

"Remind me why  _we_  have to be the ones to give him protection."

Matthias sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. Lisbon simply glowered at him. She hadn't been impressed when he had informed her that the SCU was going to be in charge of Patrick Jane's protection. After all, he wasn't really anything to do with them. The MCU had more than enough expertise to look after him after his frankly stupid error - and in addition to that, it had been their responsibility to ensure that he kept his mouth shut in the first place. She resented the fact that they were passing the responsibility onto them, when they were still adjusting to working together and learning the ropes of working within the CBI.

"Because Major Crimes is making another bust," he explained patiently and Lisbon scowled. "They don't have the time or resources to watch over Mr. Jane."

"And? Why didn't they brief him on what  _not_  to say in the first place?" she replied, angrily. "This was preventable! We've got our own cases to be worrying about, rather than babysitting a spoiled so-called psychic, who we don't even work with."

"That may be the case, but Minelli gave us a job to do."

"But Red John's MO isn't about seeking revenge - he targets women - it's all about power games, pleasure. Anyone can see that," Lisbon said, as she paced around Matthias' office.

"Who's to say he won't break pattern? He has done in the past," Matthias shot straight back and Lisbon flinched. "Besides, there's always his family too. We have to put them under protection as well."

"You're right," she eventually admitted, "and I know… it's just…"

"Frustrating?"

"Yeah."

"And you have a personal connection to the case?"

"That too."

Lisbon glanced at Cho and briefly wondered why he hadn't bothered saying a word. He often seemed reluctant to speak out of place, even if something was particularly intriguing him. She wasn't sure, but she got the impression that he really wanted to know what her supposed personal connection to the Red John case was. Part of her wondered if his reluctance to speak was because he was inexperienced and didn't think his thoughts were of value or if it was because he simply didn't have an opinion on the subject. Or maybe, it was simply a part of his military training, where he was more inclined to follow orders than offer his own interpretation.

"Cho, you man the phones. Lisbon, see if you can track down Mr. Jane," Matthias instructed, once she had calmed down a little. "Apparently, he's already left the recording studios."

"Damn."

"Indeed. And if we hadn't spent so much time arguing…" Matthias stated lightly.

"I know, I know," she answered, holding up her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I'm on it, boss."

xxx

They didn't find Patrick Jane. Or at least, they didn't find him in time.

Matthias had been right; Red John had targeted the CBI consultant's young family. When she had discovered that Patrick Jane had flown straight home to Malibu after his gig, Lisbon had been more than a little irritated. It was an expense - and time - they could do without wasting. Initially, she had thought that Minelli had decided to be over-cautious, but what had concerned her more was just how long they would have been expected to shadow the Jane family for. Realistically, if it was going to be an extended period of time, because they believed their lives were at risk, it would have been a requirement and far more sensible to put them straight into witness protection.

Then again, from the little she knew about the man, she suspected that his ego wouldn't have allowed him to give up. To run away and hide, even if the safety of himself and his family had been at stake. He was too proud, too arrogant to hide away and pretend he was somebody else. And even if he had been put under protection, he would have been more inclined to 'accidentally' blow his cover, simply because he wouldn't have been able to resist it. Like John, Patrick Jane seemed to relish the attention of others and loved showing off to a captive audience. The only difference was that Mr. Jane liked to bask in the glory of his people, whereas John had always seemed to like to see the affect he had on others from the shadows.

When she saw the smiley face painted on the wall, she felt as though her heart had shattered. Instantaneously, Lisbon regretted pushing John away so much. As far as she was concerned, she could have prevented this. She could have stopped him from making such a mess of his life, from resorting to killing for what? Cheap thrills? Out of boredom? A lack of attention? Guilt?

However, she just needed to look at Tommy to know that that wasn't necessarily true. Her younger brother had gone completely off the rails, despite the fact she had doted upon him until her move to California. He had become messed up in drugs, alcohol and petty crimes. Time and time again, she had tried to tell him to get out of it, if only for Joseph's sake, but he just refused to listen. It had gotten to the stage where she simply couldn't be bothered to waste any more time or energy on him. What was the point? All it succeeded in doing was winding them both up and had made them resent one another. And if she couldn't stop a sibling from doing stuff like that, then what chance did she have with somebody whom she didn't even have the blood ties with? It didn't help that she'd given up talking with John properly long before she cut one of her brothers out of her life.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Matthias said and closed the gap between them. "Must bring up some awful memories for you."

She nodded dumbly in response. Yes, she had been exposed to more bodies now, especially since moving to Sacramento, but it didn't always lessen the blow. These two were particularly badly maimed and then, there was that taunting smiley face, leering down at them. The fact that Jane was curled up in the lounge, rocking to and fro as Cho tried to comfort him, didn't help either. The daughter - Charlotte - was so young, barely even five and all Lisbon could think of was the terrible waste of a life. And yet, somebody had willingly taken a knife to her throat and cruelly ended it.

Not just somebody. John.  _Red_ John.

Somebody who she had once counted amongst her friends was not only a serial killer, but now a child killer too. It just seemed so twisted, so wrong. He had always seemed so level-headed to her, so convincing. This was the work of somebody who was clearly insane. How could anyone in their right mind slit the throat of an innocent girl simply because her father didn't know when to keep quiet?

xxx

Patrick Jane disappeared relatively soon after the Major Crimes Unit had finished questioning him about his involvement in his family's murders. When she had heard that through the grapevine, it didn't surprise Lisbon all that much. If she ever heard that something had happened to any of her family - Tommy included - then she would want to disappear into obscurity pretty quickly too. Then again, she wasn't in the public eye, so was less inclined to attract trouble. However, being a cop provided enough troubles on its own.

And then, there was the whole John dilemma.

Not that she could actively do much about it.

For a start, the case was still under MCU jurisdiction. That was something she was partially grateful for. Working the case, despite having inside knowledge, would have been something that she would have found hard to tolerate. Even though, for the most part, she had managed to push her connections aside, there were still times they surfaced. Usually, whenever Red John struck again. Each and every time she found herself questioning why she hadn't told anybody what they knew, how she could continue to keep it secret. Red John's list of murders was growing increasingly longer and theoretically, she had evidence that would blow the case wide open and lead to a criminal conviction.

It would also undo her career entirely. Something which she was growing increasingly proud of. Despite all the hard work she'd done, Lisbon knew that it wouldn't be enough to stop her from avoiding jail. If she were ever to have direct contact with the Red John case, then she would have to find damning evidence, which saved her own skin and brought him down too. Provided, of course, that John didn't blow all of her lies out into the open when they did manage to arrest him.

Thoughts like that always made her feel like she was just pretending to be a cop. That she was doing a bad job with it as well. Lisbon knew what she should have done - years ago, even - and yet, time and time again she chose self-preservation instead of the prevention of crimes. If she had been a stronger person, then maybe she would have handed John (and herself) over to the authorities years ago. Instead, she chose to hide behind the skills she brought to the CBI and the cases she helped to close as justification for her subterfuge.

Of late, Minelli had been hinting that she would soon be ready for promotion. After all, she had been with the CBI for nearly five years now and was still just second in command. Like it had in San Francisco, her career had begun to stagnate somewhat. Still, his hints at promotion didn't help her apprehension either. It boosted her ego and made her feel like she was really going somewhere. Over the years, the special senior agent was also slowly developing a close bond with her; after all, he had specially chosen her when it came to constructing the Serious Crimes Unit. Ever since she had signed her contract with the CBI, he had had a vested interest in her career. The man seemed to treat her with a fatherly affection, was proud of the way she was developing and now, she didn't want to let him down. Lisbon knew he would be devastated if he ever found out what she had done - and what she had continued to do right under his nose.

As would so many other people at the CBI. And the rest of her family, even.

Still, this was the path she had chosen and she couldn't back out now. It wasn't possible to go back in time, to crucial points and change her decision. There was no way she could now, upon seeing that first body, have instead called the San Francisco Police Department instead of ushering John away and covering it up for him. She could have all the regrets in the world and it didn't make an ounce of difference. Lisbon hated that one foolish error could potentially unravel the entirety of her career. It had made things all the more difficult in the long run.

And sooner or later, she was going to have to find some way to fix this. She just hoped that the cost wouldn't be too high.


	6. Part Six

She woke in a cold sweat.

Quickly, she wrung her hands together, as if to get them clean. Then she lifted them up carefully, trying desperately to see what was there, what was wrong. There was nothing there, but Lisbon could have sworn that they were caked in blood. Somebody else's, not her own. Not someone she had killed, which only happened on very rare occasions in her line of work and was always very regrettable, but some strange woman who was dead before she had even got to the scene. Why she was playing around with blood, regardless of whether or not it was somebody else's, was disconcerting. It certainly wasn't something any normal person would ever consider doing.

Carefully, she sat and tried to control her breathing a little. It took a short while, but eventually she was beginning to feel more calm. It was just a dream, it was always just a dream. Or rather, a reoccurring nightmare, based on a memory dredged up from the recesses of her mind. This specific one, she had been trying to forget for years. Everybody had skeletons in the closet, secrets that they didn't want other people to find out. It was just hers, as an officer of the law, where significantly more detrimental than most other people's.

She had been the one to paint the very first Red John smiley face.

It was something she had long since tried to forget, naturally.

Had she been the one to push John along the path to becoming a serial killer? Or had he been well on the way towards it before she had given him a calling card, a motif, a modus operandi? Would it have happened if she had not interfered, had just ignored his telephone call instead of rushing over to California to help him out? What would have happened if she had decided to turn him into the authorities instead? Why hadn't she done so by now?

She quickly tried to dispel the thoughts. They were ones that had taunted her for so long now, that they were practically a habitual part of her existence. The only reason that the questioning and the self-doubt had become more prevalent was because she had just become lead agent of the Serious Crimes Unit. Matthias had opted to move back to his hometown in Georgia, to look after his sick mom shortly after Minelli had started hinting that she was ready for a higher position. He had immediately taken the opportunity to reshuffle the CBI, bringing Wayne Rigsby, an arson specialist, over into the SCU and started advertising for a new rookie agent. As far as she knew, Minelli was very pleased with how the new look Serious Crimes Unit was looking thus far.

And truth be told, so was she.

That was, until she found out that jurisdiction of the Red John case was to be passed over to her newly formed team.

xxx

"I'm Patrick Jane."

"I know."

"You do?"

She smirked at her new consultant's surprise, though she couldn't be sure whether or not he was faking it. Of course she knew who he was. For a start, Lisbon had a good memory for faces and besides, back in the day, he had been pretty famous for a psychic. Still, the last time she had seen him, he was still claiming to have connections to the spiritual world. Now, she wasn't so sure what it was he said he did. That was something Lisbon felt she had to address - and soon. Briefly she pushed the thought aside and instead, she smiled slightly and shook his hand with a firm grasp. When Minelli had informed her that she would be receiving a new consultant, Patrick Jane had been the last person she expected. She didn't know what to make of his return to the CBI after a good four years disappearance.

Lisbon had heard from the old MCU agents that Jane had been a force to be reckoned with. That he practically attracted trouble, wherever he went. She didn't even need to take their word for it; she had seen it first-hand based on that disastrous television interview he'd given out. Quietly, she hoped that his time away from the CBI had calmed him down somewhat, that he would now be a little more controllable. However, she was also aware that there was the possibility that that was merely wishful thinking. Still, she counted her blessings that she had had a year to settle down as senior agent before having somebody like Jane foisted upon her. Though, it was a shame that he had to start shortly before she was expecting yet another new rookie. The one who had initially been put under her care had quit spectacularly after realizing he couldn't cope with facing dead bodies day in, day out.

Without another word, she led the man to her office and was relieved when he willingly followed. Half of her wouldn't have been surprised if he had disappeared off elsewhere, intrigued by something or other. From what Lisbon could remember, he was the type to do that kind of thing. After she sat down at her desk, she steepled her fingers and stared at Jane appraisingly. He cocked his head to one side and let out a sunny smile. One that was altogether a little too bright, but she disregarded it. It was entirely possible that he just liked smiling, but part of her thought he was just putting on an act. Everyone knew that his family had been brutally murdered by Red John and that they, at the CBI, still hadn't brought their killer to justice. That simple fact alone had to bring up an awful lot of bad memories for the man.

"You want to know why I've come back, don't you?" he asked, just as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh please, it's written all over your face."

"I'm your  _boss_."

"I know. But that doesn't change the fact it's obvious what you're thinking."

"Right. Because you're a psychic," she answered back sardonically.

"No, just paying attention. I was just  _pretending_ to be a psychic. They don't exist."

"My mistake," she said with a steely tone. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Why have you come back?"

"To find Red John," he replied simply.

Of course. That was something she should have known without even bothering to ask. She wished that, like Jane, John had remained quiet, had disappeared into the ether. Instead, the bodies kept stacking up - one every six months or so - and she couldn't help but resent him for that. Since she had taken over, he had killed three more innocent women. Now, there was always something he left behind, a little hint at the crime scene as if he were saying hello to her. Lisbon was fairly certain that John knew she had jurisdiction of his case and going by his innocuous little clues, he seemed to find it pretty amusing too. Unfortunately, as far as she was concerned, he now had a very sick sense of humor. Killing wasn't something somebody should take pleasure in - really it shouldn't be done at all - and neither should mocking the law enforcement. However, John was doing both and it rankled with her. More than she would ever have admitted, even to him.

Now, she had someone who claimed to be merely 'paying attention' breathing down her neck. Somebody with a vested interest in the Red John case, one which was the polar opposite of her own. And even though he claimed he wasn't a psychic, he had been exceptionally good at convincing people otherwise. Therefore, it was not surprising that she was uncomfortable with the concept of working with Jane. How long would it be until he worked out her connections to Red John?

She wished that she had asked Minelli who the consultant was going to be before agreeing to work with one. That would have saved her from all of this trouble.

xxx

"How old are you? Seriously?" Lisbon asked as she slumped in the driving seat.

They had a killer in the back of the van, but not the one they should have had. Instead, he was being driven to the state morgue, in a black bag. The man may have been a killer and child rapist, of his own daughter no less, but that didn't mean she couldn't feel sorry for his loss of life. The whole Tolliver family had been torn apart by the revelations and the only surviving individual was going to be paying for it by spending the rest of her life in jail. All for what? Little more than petty revenge, no thanks to a little needling from a certain Patrick Jane.

Of course she was going to be more than a little angry with him. In fact, she was finding it highly surprising that the Major Crimes Unit had tolerated Jane for so long during his first stint consulting for the CBI. After all, back then, he hadn't been tempered by Red John, hadn't been taught a lesson in humility. Considering she had quickly learned that his ego was still second to none, that had to be saying something. Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a heavy sigh. Jane had only been working underneath her for five weeks and already, she was having to suspend him. The PSU were going to have a field day with this one. It wasn't just going to be Jane's standards scrutinized, Lisbon knew that she was going to come under their microscope as well.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Really? You have to ask?"

"Okay, so maybe I went a little too far-"

"You got a man killed, Jane."

"A guilty man. We found the girl's diary, remember?"

"Doesn't make a difference."

"So, if Red John were to be killed by somebody, out of revenge you would feel exactly the same way?" he questioned lightly.

She flinched in response. Red John just had to be his example, didn't it? Then again, she wasn't the only one with personal connections to the case. Lisbon was still questioning why Minelli had willingly allowed him to work with her. He was a victim, tied inexorably to one of her cases, he couldn't deal with it with clear judgment. Nobody could and she knew that from experience. There had been times, when the pressure to find and apprehend Red John had gotten extreme, that she had been tempted to quit, but she resisted. She had no intention of letting John ruin her life and everything she had worked so damn hard for, just as he had threatened to do so by simply calling her all those years ago. Sooner or later, he would pay for what he had done. The question remained how to do it without it damaging herself.

That was something she was still working on.

"Of course," she answered eventually, attempting to keep her tone even. "Everyone deserves to be tried in a court of law - even a serial killer such as Red John."

Jane placed a contemplative finger across his lips and let out an indistinct humming noise.

"Right. I'm glad we had this conversation. I've learned a lot."

"Good for you. Just so long as  _you'_ _re_  happy," she answered back in response. "By the way, you're on suspension."

xxx

She felt a gentle hand on the small of her back and froze instantaneously.

"Have you caught the killer yet?"

"What?" she asked, before realizing exactly who was speaking to her. "John?"

"Who else?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I followed Patrick Jane," he explained, with a brief smile. "He's a character, don't you think?"

Quietly, she ushered him towards her hotel room. The bar was far too public a place to talk. If anybody asked who he was, if Van Pelt, the new rookie, saw them, she had already decided to fob her off with some kind of pitiful excuse. What that would be, she wasn't quite sure, but she secretly hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Anyway, it was worth the risk. She had a feeling that this wasn't going to be a conversation she wanted people to overhear. Lisbon was grateful when they reached her hotel room unnoticed and soon slammed the door behind her, glaring at him.

"That's  _how_  you got here, not why."

"You didn't ask why."

"Don't you dare start playing mind games with me," she growled and he chuckled a little. "I get enough of that from Jane."

"So he hasn't learned a thing then? That's sad."

"John…"

She allowed her words to die in the air. He genuinely appeared to be disappointed that Jane still willingly manipulated people for a living. Automatically, Lisbon reached out and touched his elbow lightly with two fingers. John flinched in response, clearly unused to displays of affection. He shied away from her, almost as if he didn't deserve to have anyone feeling remotely sorry for him. Considering what most people thought of him, they would assume it was probably accurate. However, Lisbon knew there was a man behind the smiley face, somebody who very much had thoughts and feelings and flaws. Yes, he had committed heinous crimes, but that didn't mean he wasn't human. And with regards to Red John, that was what so many people failed to comprehend. He wasn't the devil, or a monster. He was just a man who had very much lost his way.

It seemed like he had genuinely hoped that Jane had learned something from the death of his family. John had always had his own strict set of morals; it was just a case that sometimes, they didn't quite fit in with the rest of the world's. That was when the problems arose. It was why she was spending her life trying to track him down and make him pay for what he had done to so many innocent people. It hurt her, having to do that, but she didn't have much of a choice. She was duty bound to do so. Besides, as far as most people were concerned, she had more of a reason to than most. He had, after all, nearly killed her in the past.

She knew that one day, she would have to place handcuffs around his wrists and inevitably lead him to his death. There was no way Red John would escape the death penalty, it was a forgone conclusion. One day, she would have undeniable evidence in her hand and would have to carry it out. And even though she told herself she had come to terms with the concept, deep down, it still hurt like hell. Lisbon knew that it would be akin to arresting one of her own brothers, he had been that close to her as a child.

"He does regret it, you know," she eventually said, "or I think he does. Why else would he be working with me, us, the CBI?"

John shrugged slightly. They both knew the real reason that Jane was working with the CBI, but neither wanted to vocalize it. After all, it meant admitting that John's actions had caused a man to seek revenge for something he'd done. Realistically, that was hardly surprising given the fact he had already killed so many innocent people but that didn't matter. The point was, it was tangible and would have obvious effects on Lisbon. Especially so given she was working in close confines with Patrick Jane.

"So, are you going to answer my question?"

"What question?"

"John!"

"Oh. Yeah. I wanted to see you again."

"Despite the fact I asked you not to? Repeatedly?"

"Yes, and I needed to know if I need to do your job for you."

"We'll catch the man responsible," she answered, sounding more confident than she actually felt.

"We'll see," he replied with a steely tone. "Don't you know there's a serial killer hounding California? Isn't it your responsibility to be catching him?"

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

The fire alarm filled the room and John looked momentarily stunned. He gently pushed Lisbon aside and opened the door a little. Before he exited he turned to face her. Lisbon wished they hadn't been interrupted, that she had been able to at least finish this conversation with him. She had felt like they were slowly getting somewhere, though in reality she knew deep down that he had said everything he needed to say. Still, it had almost been like old times, bickering with an old friend about nothing in particular. Except, what they had discussed was serious, it had real repercussions. It wasn't just about where to find a magnifying glass to fry some ants or whether or not Mr. Peters would catch them throwing pebbles at his cat again.

"I'm still sorry, by the way."

"For what?"

"You know," he replied.

His eyes lingered briefly on her abdomen. Automatically, Lisbon raised a hand and allowed it to rest where the scar was. Now, it seemed pretty insubstantial, one of many battle wounds she had gathered while on the job. However, that didn't mean she had forgotten the sheer horror, the shock of her first major injury as a cop. Not least because it had been caused by one of the people she had least expected to hurt her.

"I have to go," he said, as if he had suddenly remembered the fire alarm going off around them.

"Well, obviously."

"I mean I won't be here after all this has calmed down," he clarified and she nodded slightly. "Be well, Teresa."

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you do it?"

He shook his head. She should have known that she would never get an answer to that specific question. John probably didn't even know why he did it himself, so therefore there was nothing to stay. Lisbon watched as he slipped out of the door and disappeared into the throng of people exiting the hotel. The alarm was still blaring; she had to escape too. The mass confusion indicated that nobody really knew if it was a drill, a hoax or a legitimate fire. Still, she headed outside and soon found the rest of the team. That didn't stop her eyes from scouring the crowd, trying desperately to pick out John. Of course, he was true to his word and he had long since gone.


	7. Part Seven

Eventually they were let back inside and they reconvened in Jane's room. It was hardly surprising that Jane was at least partially involved with the alarm going off; the man was a magnet for trouble. Still, her heart broke when she saw Jane in such a state because of the letter he'd received. It was obvious to her that Red John wasn't responsible for the delivery; the serial killer had been with her when Jane had received the note. She would have said that it was overconfident for someone like John, but then again, he had been in the building at the time, despite knowing full well the hotel was housing several CBI agents. Jane's reaction was strikingly different to any she had seen from him beforehand. The false bravado and cocky arrogance had disappeared in an instant.

But what really struck her was just how surprisingly similar to John that Jane really was. It was funny how quickly she found these conclusions sprung to her head. Especially so given the fact that she had barely known Jane for any time at all. Both were proud, arrogant, almost painfully so. They both wound her up and didn't really care about the repercussions of her anger. Neither of them could be told what to do, for it was inevitable that they would never listen. And they were emotionally stunted, one way or another, albeit for very different reasons.

Lisbon watched, as her team listened in horror to Van Pelt reading the contents of the note. She had to give it to the author; it had been very well researched. Although, she was grateful that it wasn't so well researched that it had dropped another bombshell. One that she feared that somebody would reveal at any given time. The thing that would turn  _her_  life upside down. It was selfish, she knew that, but every time Red John was around, her self-preservation instinct kicked in. It was something she couldn't fight against, something she had needed to get through her hellish childhood. Or at least, that was the excuse she continually repeated to herself. How else would she have managed to get through her life in one piece without fiercely defending herself from outside influence?

When she left, Lisbon told him to get some rest because she genuinely didn't know what else to say or do.

Sometimes, she almost forgot about the human cost behind her friend's actions. Or at least, she chose to ignore it because it was easier that way. And this was a more painful reminder than most.

xxx

However much he had pissed her off at the start, she slowly but surely found herself beginning to enjoy Jane's company at work.

Yes, his techniques were a little odd, but they worked. It had meant her team's closed case record had shot through the roof. Like so many other things, she pretended the fact that the complaints hadn't equally skyrocketed, because that just made for depressing reading. And besides, Lisbon was slowly becoming convinced that Jane's expertise outweighed the problems that he caused. Jane made the CBI look good to the media and therefore, increased their profile considerably. That made Public Relations happy, that made Minelli happy and because it kept them off her back, it made Lisbon happy.

Besides, he made everything a little more fun. It always intrigued Lisbon, watching the way he worked out a case. Jane looked at the world in a different way to other people, much like somebody else she knew, and that was what meant he noticed the small things that she and her team may have overlooked. And not only that, but he made it a little more fun. Sometimes, Lisbon felt like she had the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders and forgot to make time for herself. Slowly, but surely, Jane was teaching her otherwise.

Or rather, they spent time in each other's company, instead of wallowing in self-pity, alone, as they may have done so instead.

"I bought you a coffee."

"Thanks, Jane," she answered absent-mindedly, her eyes fixated on her computer screen. "Hang on. What have you done?"

"Me? Nothing."

"Why did you just buy me a coffee then?"

"Can't a co-worker innocently buy someone a coffee without there being a reason behind it?"

He slouched in the chair opposite her and Lisbon raised a skeptical eyebrow. Eventually she stopped typing in order to observe her consultant properly. She knew that she couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him and that was the point. If he was trying to buy her off with caffeinated beverages, she knew she wanted to know why so that she could carry out damage limitation while drinking it.

"Ordinarily, yes. But when you're involved, not so much."

"I've bought you coffee before."

"Only when we're out in the field. Or if you're buying one for everybody," she swiftly pointed out.

"I thought it'd make a nice change. I know how much you despise the coffee they supply you with here, even if you can't stop yourself from drinking it."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. Can't you accept the gesture without getting suspicious, woman?"

Lisbon immediately felt her cheeks reddening a little and instead, buried her head in the coffee cup to try and disguise the blush. When Jane smirked back at her in response, she knew that she had failed dismally but she didn't care. Sometimes, despite his claims otherwise, she genuinely believed that he was a psychic. He just had a way of knowing things that others simply did not have and he was relatively unwilling to teach any of the others these supposed skills. It was only natural that she therefore believed that they were partially inherent, something he couldn't help but too.

She looked up when Cho knocked smartly on her office door. Carefully, she placed the coffee down and observed her second with interest. Jane quickly made his excuses, stating something about them doing boring cop work and disappeared. Automatically, she assumed that he, therefore, had something to do with whatever Cho was interrupting them about. After all, if he didn't, he would probably have stayed put, if only to listen into their conversation. One thing she knew about Jane was that he had to know everything that everyone was getting up to, otherwise he wasn't happy. Part of her suspected that he was constantly on the lookout for blackmail material and considering what she knew, it meant she was almost always constantly on edge around him.

"Boss, Minelli wants to see you. Something about Jane telling small children that Santa is dead?"

xxx

"You're the Good Witch Glinda, obviously," Jane had said.

Lisbon furrowed her brow slightly as she headed straight to her office. The thought had settled uneasily in her stomach. How was she meant to feel about that? If she was the Good Witch Glinda, what did that make John? The Wicked Witch of the West? But he wasn't wicked, not really. He was just… human, like everybody was. It just happened that he had made bigger mistakes than most and refused to admit to them. However, she automatically knew that Jane would like that implication. After all, he only knew the one side of Red John. The serial killer, the one who had cruelly snatched his family away. Part of her knew that Jane pretty much saw a demon or devil whenever he thought of Red John, regardless of however much he insisted he was an atheist. That may well have been the case, but there were still some religious images that even atheists cannot resist to cling onto in times of trouble. And that of the devil was just one of those.

It also hurt her more than she cared to admit that he had decided to throw it all in, to desert them. Yes, elements of working with him made her life a little harder, but she had also appreciated everything he'd done for her - and her team - as well. Lisbon hadn't even realized just how much she had enjoyed his company and learning from him until the chance to carry on had been unwillingly taken away from her. What they needed was a link between Renfrew and Red John.

There was a very obvious way she could have attempted to find one. However, that meant playing one person she cared about against another.

Then again, if she was going to allow herself to get close to Patrick Jane, that was a price she was always going to have to pay. He and John were at polar ends of the spectrum and practically wanted to destroy each other either figuratively or literally. As far as Lisbon was concerned, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place and there was very little she could do about it. Especially so as the further she got with her career, the more reluctant she was to give it all up.

And that was something she could only blame on herself. If she had only called in John's first murder instead of covered it, then things would have been so much different.

But then, she wouldn't have had either John  _or_  Jane in her life. Probably.

xxx

"I know it was you on the phone. Why did you do that to him?" she snapped, naturally furious at him. "Don't you think you've put him through enough?"

John remained deathly silent. The Tijuana motel had been kind enough to supply the CBI with rooms while they cleared up the bodies of Renfrew and his hooker. Therefore, it was only natural that John had decided to lay in wait for them to arrive. When the cell phone had rang and she'd heard his all too familiar laugh, Lisbon knew that John wouldn't have been far away. Eventually, when she'd had a moments peace, she had been the one to track him down in the bar, again, sipping at a scotch on the rocks. He'd offered her a warm smile, which dropped the moment she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a secluded spot on the balcony.

"Why not?" he eventually retorted. "Why didn't you stop him from investigating the Renfrew case?"

"Why should I? You killed his family in cold blood! And besides, how the hell should I have known that you had connections with the Renfrew family? I'm not a psychic!"

"No, you're not. But you once said you'd always be there for me; why not persuade him to drop it once  _you_  realized the connection?"

She racked her brains for the memory. Like Jane, John had the eerie capability of being able to remember the smallest of facts and information, ones that escaped the majority of people. Lisbon always hated it whenever either of them used that skill against her. It made her feel small, inferior. Like they could always use that detail against her. In a way, that wasn't entirely too far from the truth.

"I was a kid; kids say stupid things like that," she said with a frown.

"You're not the woman I once knew," John stated lightly, clearly disappointed by her lack of support.

"Of course I'm not, what did you expect? For me to remain exactly the same as you went on a rampage through California?" she retorted, with a hollow laugh. "Everyone is scared of you. That - that…. You promised that that was a one-time deal. That you wouldn't 'accidentally' kill anyone and look at you! You're a serial killer now! And me? I'm still a cop. There's no way that I can-"

"I just thought that, maybe…" he interrupted before trailing off.

"Well you thought wrong," she answered back, "leave me alone, John. I mean it. Stop stalking me and my team."

"Including Patrick Jane?"

" _Especially_  Patrick Jane!"

xxx

"How's the pony?"

Lisbon dropped a bit of her sandwich on her lap, before looking up at Jane. She thought that this sandwich shop was one of her little secrets and she had used it during her lunch breaks as respite from Jane and the team for a while. Obviously, as he sat opposite her, with a cheese and ham roll in hand, she had been wrong. Silently, she made a mental note to find a new secret hideaway, though she was sad to do so. She had always enjoyed the quaintness of this café and now, she wouldn't be able to come back nearly as often.

"Fine," she answered, albeit suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just wondering," he replied with a typically bright grin, before taking a bite of his sandwich. "This place always does the best sandwiches, don't you think?"

"Yes."

"Can you actually form cohesive sentences, or can you only use words with no more than one syllable?"

"I'm trying to eat here!" she snapped, irritably.

"Well done," he answered, albeit patronizingly, "and you're not getting very far, eating that."

"That's because  _someone_  keeps disturbing me."

"What? Who? I'll talk to them."

Instinctively, she rolled her eyes and took a bite. Sarcasm didn't particularly suit Jane, but that didn't always stop him from trying. Besides, she was still trying to hide her amusement, because in reality, she had still been hoping for that quiet lunch alone. With a sigh, she pushed half her meal away and stood to leave. Not because she hadn't been enjoying it, nor because she was angry at Jane disturbing her. She had simply been keeping a very close eye on the clock and knew that she had to get back to the office.

"Where are you going? You haven't finished your sandwich."

"Work, of course," she answered as she pulled on her jacket. "Where else would I be going?"

"I don't know, somewhere interesting?"

"And here I was, thinking you knew everything."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lisbon, of course I don't know everything."

"You coming?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, Lisbon headed straight for the door and simply expected him to follow. After all, that was what he usually did. Sometimes, she swore he had more in common with a Labrador puppy than the human race. He was annoying, demanding, sometimes seemed to have an obscenely short attention span and loyal to a fault. When he did indeed fall into step with her, but not without shoveling the rest of his food in his mouth, she smirked slightly. And he had the audacity to accuse her of being predictable on occasion.

"Are you really married to the job, or are you just trying to keep up appearances?"

"Now, you're the one being ridiculous."

"When was the last time you had a vacation?" he persisted and once again, she wished he hadn't followed her.

"Last month. You know, when I…"

"Public holidays don't count, Lisbon."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not healthy."

She snorted in a very unladylike manner. As if he was one to judge, the hypocrite. Lisbon couldn't recall the last time he'd had a day off, either willingly or due to illness. In fact, even when suspended, he somehow managed to sneak his way back onto cases, whether she wanted him to or not. Out of everybody she knew, he had the least right to accuse her of being a workaholic, when he was virtually the same.

"I do other stuff. I have a private life," she eventually said, albeit stiffly.

"Really? Do tell."

"No! It's called a  _private_  life for a reason."

"Now I'm just more intrigued," he said, grinning. "What are you hiding from me, Agent Lisbon?"

"Oh, I could write novels about the things you don't know about me," she truthfully replied, hoping that he simply took it as banter.

"Now I find that hard to believe."

"Of course you would," she muttered under her breath.

Really, she was wondering just how much he knew about herself and John. Naturally, that was the biggest aspect of her life she was holding from him. Though Lisbon had told John (and herself) time and time again that their affiliation was long since over, there was still something niggling at the back of her brain. It wasn't over; it never would be. Or at least, it wouldn't be until one of them was six feet under. And even just because somebody was dead, it didn't mean the truth wouldn't necessarily find its own way out. Some stories just begged to be told, especially if somebody was desperate to hide the truth.

This was one that three people already knew about. How many more had to before it reared its ugly head to the masses? And to Patrick Jane, especially?

Soon, they were back in the office and Lisbon took that as a blessed relief. It meant she could stop over thinking every action and every word as she could escape Jane. Instead, she could continue making the mountain of paperwork on her desk considerably smaller. They were having a quiet spell, something which was good for the state of California. It meant that people weren't killing one another, which was something everyone could be grateful for. Unfortunately, it meant her highly strung team grew bored and irritable, something which was somewhat less pleasant. At least she had the ability to hide away in her office while they annoyed one another.

"Oh I rescued this, by the way," he said as he handed her the rest of the sandwich. "No point in seeing good food go to waste."

"Give it to Rigsby, then," Lisbon answered as she headed straight for her office. "He's like a human trash can."

"I'll tell him you said that!"

"You do that!"


	8. Part Eight

Her hand quavered slightly as she tried to hold the gun steady. Why did she decide to come back to Sparrow's Peak? Jane had suspected that Red John would have been long gone, so why the intrigue? Oh yes, because she knew Red John better than Jane would ever realize. Mostly because she would never dare admit to him just what she knew. As far as she was concerned, she was doing a pretty good job at hiding it from him. Then again, it had all become second nature to her, the secrecy and lies. It had been what she'd been doing ever since she had come across John's first murder. Therefore, it was nothing new to her. The only thing that was different was that Jane had an invested interest in the case, just as everybody assumed she did too. Nobody, excepting Bosco, knew the reason why Red John hadn't finished the job when she had stumbled across that murder. Even he only knew the vague details and had come to some very erroneous conclusions, ones which she wasn't willing to rectify.

But, right now, that was beside the point. Now, she was looking for John, actually seeking him out and wasn't entirely sure why herself. For years now, she had been pushing him away, telling him to stop contacting her. Naturally, he had ignored her instructions and ever since Jane had come on the scene, he had been visiting her semi-regularly. And now, now she was ignoring her self-imposed ban for no obvious reason. Lisbon clenched hold of the gun more tightly. Last time she was on this property, she had nearly died. Dumar Hardy had nearly shot her, but Jane had saved her life. Quickly, she decided that she needed to know whether or not Hardy was telling the truth, if he was lying about his connections with John. That was all there was to it.

Or so she told herself. Deep down, she knew that she wanted to see him again, to plead with him to stop the killings. Every time he killed somebody else, she saw Jane's behavior grow more and more destructive. How many more murders was it going to take before Jane fell over the edge? And how many more innocent people did John have to kill before he realized that what he was doing was morally abhorrent?

How many more people had to die before she stepped in and stopped the lunacy?

She crept through the building, cringing every time she stood on a creaky floorboard or a rat scurried across the room. Slowly, Lisbon eased a door open, keeping a tight grip on her Glock. John was probably expecting her and therefore, she knew she had to be careful. If she considered Patrick Jane to be unpredictable, then she had to consider John in the exact same light. After all, she had come close to death at his hand before.

John turned on the spot the moment she entered the room. He was wearing a wide smile and in his hands, was a knife. Immediately, she knew it was his weapon of choice, the one he had used to kill many of his victims. There was so much spilled blood on the blade and it made her feel slightly sick. Still, she steadied her hand and narrowed her eyes. John was armed and she wasn't going to give in until he placed that knife down. It was only then that she would be able to marginally trust him more.

"Please, just put the gun down, Teresa," he said calmly.

"Not until you put down that knife."

"Like I'm going to attack you."

"You expect me to believe that, John? You've killed fifteen innocent people. Fifteen!" she said, almost shouting as she did so. "Who's to say I won't be next? You nearly killed me once, remember?"

"Well, for a start, a bullet moves a hell of a lot faster than a knife blade."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. Trust him to be pedantic, as if she didn't get enough of that from Patrick Jane. He reluctantly obliged and it was only when he kicked the knife away that she placed her gun back in its holster. Lisbon remained still and she watched him, eagle eyed. She swallowed involuntarily as he took a step closer to her and then another. Eventually, he was standing as close as it was feasibly possible to be without actually touching her. She was close enough to him to, smell his cologne, to feel and hear his each and every breath, to see his eyelashes flutter every time he blinked. As she stared resolutely into his eyes, she tried desperately to work out what the hell he was thinking. However, she found it impossible to come to any conclusions. She was alone, with a madman, and instead of running for the hills, she was quite happy to stand her ground.

Which probably made her a mad woman, if she thought about it hard enough.

John raised his hand slowly and steadily and it was only when she realized he was moving his limbs that she tore her gaze away from his eyes. She watched, with saucer-like eyes as he carefully placed his hand on her left cheek. Instead of pulling away as she probably should have done, Lisbon relaxed into his touch. There was something almost reassuring about it; it was almost a reminder of what he'd been like before all the insanity had begun. Her pulse quickened slightly as his fingers gently brushed her skin and she barely noticed when he placed his left hand on the other side of her face.

What she did notice, however, was when he brushed his lips across her own. A moment's indecision fleetingly floundered in her mind. She could pull him closer and enjoy the embrace. It had been a while since she had last been so physically close to a man, though not through choice. And though she knew that she shouldn't, Lisbon had always  _liked_  John, had always wondered how different their lives could have been if she had told him so as a teenager. However, was there really such a thing as better late than never? And even so, he was a serial killer and she was a cop. The two were incompatible by default.

It was that realization that made her shove him roughly away, before he had a chance to deepen the kiss. It could never work, even if she wanted it to. And even then, she wasn't sure it was what she would have wanted, even if things  _weren'_ _t_ the way they were. He was John, her childhood friend, the cool older boy who always put up with her tagging along. The one who let the small fierce girl that she was chase him around with a plastic gun and pretend to shoot him to death. He'd watched her grow up, quite literally, and there was something about that thought that just made the situation feel even more wrong than it already did.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped.

"Personally, I thought it was a long time coming."

"Well, you thought wrong."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not," she answered, albeit sadly. It seemed like that was all she was ever saying to people these days. "You never are."

"I am."

"Even if you are - and I don't believe that for a second - I'm the one with the scars. Who's to say you won't give me more?"

"I wouldn't, not to you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

With that, she turned on her heels and left the building. Lisbon knew that she was putting a huge element of trust in him, not to literally stab her in the back, but she had to get out of there. John was messing with her mind, just like Jane had a tendency to do. She'd had a long and rough day and now, all she needed was some peace and quiet to try and work out what the hell was going on with her life.

xxx

It was her last resort. Lisbon had never imagined that the McTeer case would be the one to come back and bite her on the ass. Red John was always the one she worried about, the one which caused her sleepless nights and stressful days. As far as she had been concerned, McTeer had been long since closed and shouldn't cause her any more hassle. Even when she had received the courtesy phone call to say he had been released from jail, she hadn't been particularly worried. She had more important things on her mind, like attempting to get through this batch of psych evaluations unscathed. Dr. Roy Carmen was refusing to sign off on her and naturally, that had set off her alarm bells. Her initial concern had been that he'd worked out her connection with John somehow. Especially as he had signed off on Jane without a second thought and that man definitely didn't have sound mental health.

Still, she never imagined herself actually asking Jane to hypnotize her, not when she knew that it would put her at her most vulnerable. But she had no choice; if she wanted to prove her innocence, or at least discover whether or not she was actually guilty, then she would just have to trust him not to pry too deeply. Lisbon wasn't certain, naturally, but she hadn't given him any sign not to trust her. In fact, he always implied that he trusted her implicitly, but that could always have been a double bluff. Sometimes, it was hard to tell with somebody like Jane.

As they traveled to her home, neither of them said a word. Jane drove surprisingly sedately and Lisbon was grateful for the fact. The last thing she needed right now was to berate him for speeding or the like. She was far too wrapped up in her own thoughts, trying desperately to see the logic in the situation. There was no way she could have killed McTeer, she told herself. Yes, she knew he was free and in the general vicinity, but that didn't mean she had the time or the energy to go chasing after him. And besides, the only way she would have any problem or any cause to track him down was if he re-offended. If he just kept his head down and moved on, then she didn't care what he did with the rest of his life. Jazz music filled the void and Lisbon attempted to focus on that. Her mind, her heart was racing and she needed to find some kind of distraction to switch off before she drove herself insane. Theoretically, she knew that she could talk to Jane, but she simply didn't have the energy to do so.

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay," he muttered as they reached her doorstep. It was the first thing he'd said to her for a good half an hour or so. "Relax, just breathe. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

She nodded and took in some gulping breaths. Lisbon hadn't even noticed that she had barely been breathing properly, something which she put down to the stress she was under. Instinctively, Jane touched her cheek and she flinched at the contact. The last time a man had done that, it was John. To have Jane treat her in exactly the same manner felt a little uncomfortable. Jane's intentions were completely different, he was offering comfort instead of looking for something more. She had always acknowledged the spark between them, but fiercely beat it down. There was no way she could consider a relationship with somebody when she knew that she had been consistently lying to him since day one. He pulled his hand away and frowned a little as she let him in.

Although she felt like she had little choice, Lisbon could only hope that this was the right decision.

xxx

A lot had happened since Lisbon had last seen John. Jane had managed to help prove her innocence with regards to the McTeer case and he hadn't shown any sign that he knew about her relationship of sorts with John. That was something she was grateful for; she did deserve a little luck of late. Of course, that didn't mean that Jane had calmed down at all. If anything, since the most recent Red John murders, on their home turf, no less, he had become even more erratic than usual. It worried her, seeing him behave like that. Lisbon knew it wasn't healthy for him to have his life so consumed by the concept of revenge. Then again, who was she to judge? She wasn't exactly the advocate for healthy living, considering that she never seemed capable of sorting out her problems and instead, chose to magnify them.

She was also furious with John. Lisbon had always been concerned by Minelli's decision to pull her off the Red John case. Privately, she had laughed at his comments about her being too close to it; she had always been  _way_  too close. But still, she knew that John had liked the security of having her dealing with it, mostly because he felt like it was some kind of security blanket. He trusted her resolve not to use the only concrete evidence she had - that of her admission - against him and therefore, send him to death row. They were both more than aware that she had happily built a life in California and that she wouldn't sacrifice it for anything. If she was going to, she would have done it long before now. However, he'd also known just how important Bosco was to her and yet, he had had him killed right under her nose. Automatically, she had assumed it was a message to herself as well as Jane. Maybe he had discovered that Bosco was in on their little secret and wanted him removed from Jane? It was also entirely possible that he wanted to demonstrate the power he still had over her - that she was still in his thrall, even if she wasn't willing to take their relationship in the direction he wanted.

"You like Patrick Jane, don't you?"

"What? No."

"Don't lie to me, Teresa."

"I'm not lying. Why does everybody always think I'm lying?"

"Honest eyes. You've always had them. Even when you were small, you did."

She furrowed her brow. "Bosco said that."

"I know."

That also worried her. If everybody thought she was so honest, did that mean it was only a matter of time before someone came knocking on her door to arrest her? How soon would members of her own team be asking what  _her_  connection with Red John was? And even if it was just a small percentage of people, those who  _really_  understood her, that was also problematic. After all, Jane understood the human psyche better than most. She shuddered slightly and yet again, berated herself for making her life all the more complicated than it needed to be. If she hadn't let John have such power over her from such a young age, then maybe she would have been more willing to throw him to the wolves.

"Why did you kill him?"

"Rebecca did."

"You told her to."

"How do you know that?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"I know you. If you're going to do something, you'll do it thoroughly."

"I merely instructed her to ensure that Bosco and his team were permanently removed from my case."

"That's just semantics and you know it," she snapped, pacing as she did so. "It means death with you, it always does. How much more permanent can you get than death? You just want my protection. What if I change my mind? What if I can't do this anymore? Damn it, I'm a cop."

"And don't I know it."

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

"Yes."

Once again, she stormed out on him, having grown frustrated with his lack of answers. Instead, as per usual, she had ended up with an even longer list of questions. He never seemed to understand her frustrating, nor the underlying pleading that he just gave up and stopped killing. There was no sense in it. Yes, he hadn't had the most blessed of childhoods, but compared to a lot of people, including herself, it had been idyllic. Even now, she still questioned why he turned out the way he did, what she could have done to stop it and how she could save him from himself.

Five minutes later, she realized she hadn't asked him everything she needed to. Who had he planted to kill Rebecca, why hadn't he trusted Bosco's old secretary the way he trusted her? Rebecca had continually claimed she knew and understood John, that he even loved her, but Lisbon naturally hadn't bought it. If he had been so happy with Rebecca, why would he have continued toying with her? She headed straight back into the motel room, only to find he had left. That it was too late to ask him this time.

To make matters worse, she hadn't even seen him leave.


	9. Part Nine

They scoured Kristina Frye's townhouse together.

When Jane had told her that he was going on a date with the psychic, it had entirely taken her off guard. The last time they had met, the pair had been practically at loggerheads, with her having to mediate. Part of her knew that all Jane was out to do was prove that she wasn't really a psychic. He was so convinced that nothing else could exist, was practically blinded to the very concept, that he ignored anyone else's opinion. Even if they could back it up with a convincing argument, he brushed it aside as coincidental. Still, she regarded it as progress, that he actually wanted to connect with people outside of the workplace. And if he was capable of doing that, then there was the hope that he would live in her pocket ever so slightly less.

Or at least, she had hoped so until Kristina had made that fateful mistake on live television. As far as she was concerned, it was just history repeating herself. She remembered her resentment at having to provide Jane with protection and the sinking feeling afterwards when they realized they'd failed. All she wanted to do was wrap Jane in bubble wrap and protect him from harm, however that was literally impossible. For a start, he was a magnet for danger and his self-imposed quest didn't help either.

Then, there was her annoyance with John. The fact that he just couldn't leave Jane alone was getting beyond a joke. It was almost as if he saw Jane as a rival he had to eliminate through the means of psychological torture. That was a ridiculous concept as Lisbon was fairly certain that her relationship with both men was going absolutely nowhere and even when given the chance, she wasn't going to change her mind about that. Still, she understood their rivalry, it was only natural. She just wished that she could have the guts to do the right thing and stop John. Unfortunately, the only answer she had to that predicament would inevitably result in his death and she wasn't about to sacrifice a dear friend in such a manner. It was bad enough that she knew it was the potential fate of many people she arrested and charged, and something that didn't always sit easily with her conscience.

It was times like this when she wished that California didn't have the death sentence. The law seemed to forget that murderers, whatever crimes they'd committed, however many people they had killed, were still human. They had just made some very grave mistakes in their lives. However, the law, people, appeared to want what was little more than legalized revenge. Jane was doing exactly that, except for the fact he insisted that it had to be by his own hands instead of relying on the law to do it on his behalf. Still, it was her job to do it and therefore, she (mostly) did it anyway. If she really hated the death sentence that much, if it was really that much of a burden to her, she could have always moved to another state.

They took their time, looking around Kristina's home. While he scoured downstairs, she looked around the sleeping quarters. She was horrified when she found out that, for the first time in a long while, John had made a mistake. A leather glove had been seemingly carelessly left in the master bedroom, under the bed. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder, suspecting Jane to come through the door at any given second. When he didn't, she pocketed it, realizing that it wasn't a mistake. It was intentional. John wanted someone to find it and most likely, that someone was her.

"What was that?"

Lisbon jumped when she heard Jane's voice. She had tried to be inconspicuous, had even checked to ensure that he was still downstairs and still, he had managed to see her. Silently, she cursed at him. The man could move as silently as a cat when he wanted to.

"Nothing," she answered back.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really, I just dropped my notebook."

Jane frowned and dropped the matter. That surprised her; Jane was never usually one to let things go quite so easily. Still, Lisbon let out the breath she had unintentionally been holding. That was altogether far too close for comfort.

xxx

She waited until the case was completely over before she even dared to look at the glove. Mostly because she had been so busy and so concerned about everyone involved. Jane, naturally, was a given and then there was Van Pelt, who had taken the fact that Kristina had disappeared under her watch very badly. That, and she wanted to pretend that John wasn't involved at all, that she hadn't known from the offset that it had been an emulation. From the very beginning, she had known that John wouldn't be impressed about the copycat killers, he never had been in the past. He always sought out to deal with them in his own ways, however much it angered Lisbon. She hated him taking the law into his own hands as much as she hated the fact that Jane was trying to do the very same.

It was the still of the night when she realized she hadn't scrutinized the object. She hadn't been able to sleep, so reluctantly, Lisbon pulled herself out of bed and fetched it out of her jacket pocket. It was obviously leather and she had no doubt that it was pretty expensive. Turning it over, she attempted to ignore the fact that it smelled very definitely of him; his favorite cologne was all over it. It wasn't long until she discovered that there had been a note hidden inside the glove. She read it over and over. John had a way with words and it had been carefully constructed. After all, he couldn't have been one hundred percent sure that she would be the one to find his glove, or that she would have been alone. Usually, it was Jane who noticed the finer details and therefore, it would have taking him seconds to discover it had they chosen to look in a different manner.

It didn't say all that much. As far as she could decipher, it was a confirmation that he had taken Kristina and didn't mean any harm to Lisbon herself. That he was sorry for making work all the more difficult for her, as per usual. He also explained that he would deal with the kids who idolized him, said he'd long worked out who they were. It was something that made her wish she had read it sooner. Then, she would have worked out who had been emulating John earlier. And then, Jane wouldn't have ended up walking into a situation unarmed and nearly gotten himself killed.

It would also have meant that Jane wouldn't have met John face to face. She always knew that that was a dangerous situation. That neither man could be trusted alone with one another. In fact, she was highly surprised when she discovered that both of them made it out of the situation unscathed. When she found Jane, tied to a chair with saran wrap, she was somewhat surprised that John hadn't finished the job. Given the fact that John was happily making Jane's life a misery, she was pleased that she had underestimated him.

Then again, it probably just added to Jane's psychological torture. How was he expected to cope with the fact his nemesishad been the one to save his life?

Lisbon screwed it up and along with the glove, locked it in her safe. If she ever did change her mind, she needed to keep the evidence untarnished and therefore, it was the only thing she could think to do with it. Technically, she knew she was breaking the law by withholding evidence, but what was new? With the Red John case, she had been doing that for so long that it was now pretty much second nature to do so.

xxx

"What was he like when you met him?" Jane stated lightly

"Who?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"Red John, of course."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"I don't remember much," she answered, lying through her teeth. "It all happened very quickly. And it was dark."

Truth be told, she had expected this line of inquiry a long while ago. For some reason, Jane had never thought to bring up the fact that it was relatively common knowledge that she had indeed interacted with Red John once in the past. In fact, some people had labeled her as the victim that wasn't, the one that fell through his fingers. The only difference was she knew that Red John had never intended to shoot her, never mind kill. Though, the longer she could maintain the image otherwise, the better.

"Really?"

"If you like, I could hypno-"

"No way. Once is enough."

"But you never know what you might recall; it could provide us with integral details about the case!"

"I'm not having you messing around inside my head, again. If you are so interested, why didn't you ask last time?"

"It must have slipped my mind," he said lightly.

"That's unusual for you."

"I had more important things to worry about at the time."

"Such as?"

"Your taste in music is shocking."

"I wish I hadn't asked."

"There's no shame in liking the Spice Girls, really," he called as she stormed off. "Everyone has their own guilty pleasures!"

xxx

After he returned from the hospital, there was something different about Jane. Lisbon already knew that Todd Johnson had died, that whoever had set him alight within the four walls of the CBI headquarters had murdered him. The question on everybody's lips had been why. Who would do such a thing? It was only natural that people thought it was a revenge killing for all the cops who died in Vineland. JJ LaRoche, who had been put in charge of the investigation into Johnson's case, seemed to agree with the general consensus. Normally, that would have been good enough for her. Though she didn't know LaRoche that well, she did know that he had a good reputation for getting to the bottom of complex cases. However, there was a look in Jane's eyes, just something that suggested he was holding out on her, that there was something more to it than cold-blooded revenge.

That worried her and made her think twice. Mostly because Jane usually had one case and one case only on his mind, and that was Red John. Sometimes, she wished he would just switch off from it for half a second and give her a chance to relax. Their other cases always provided Jane with a brief distraction, but it was never enough. He always ended up right back where he started. Lisbon had lost count of the number of times she had found him holed up in his attic hideout, poring over old information, as if the seven thousandth read would give him new insight. It was moments like this when she wished she could travel back in time, change that decision she had made. Jane was a shadow of a man, living a half life, all because of one person. Somebody she could have stopped, theoretically. And it broke her heart to know that.

But then, she only needed to see John's face, his crooked smile and bright eyes to realize that she would never have been able to sacrifice him for the greater good. It was selfish, she knew that, but she couldn't help it. Everybody deserved the right to someone who cared about them, even a serial killer like him. And even if people disagreed with such a concept, human emotions were complicated. Nobody could help who they loved, or at least, cared about. Often, people had very little choice in the matter. Lisbon was evidence of that herself.

"Do you know where the Red John case files are?" Jane asked, not even bothering to knock on her office door as per usual. "They're not in their usual place."

"What's Red John got to do with anything?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

They were in the middle of another case, something relatively mundane. An apparent suicide, where a teenage boy had appeared to have drowned himself, though the evidence pointed towards him being pushed into the swimming pool. They had only been dragged into the fray because the pool's manager was best friends with the Mayor's wife. But then, it was connections like that that led to them getting the majority of their cases. Still, it was blindingly obvious that Red John had nothing to do with it and yet, Jane was still thinking about it. Then again, whenever cases weren't particularly taxing, he always took a back seat, simply because he felt it wasn't worth his time and energy.

"It's an important case!"

"All of our cases are important," she retorted angrily.

"To you, maybe."

"Not just to me, to-"

"Sometimes, I wonder if you ever want to close the Red John case at all!" he interrupted and she glared at him. "Whenever he's out of the picture, you don't seem like you care at all."

"I care!"

"You could have fooled me."

"I'm sorry, Jane, but if there's no new evidence, I have better ways to spend my time than going over old ground!"

Naturally, she was annoyed. Lisbon worked as hard as any of them on all of their cases. It was just that whenever Red John slipped through their fingers, she was silently pleased. That always meant that she had another chance to try and persuade John to give it all up before she had no choice but to arrest him. Really, they were lucky that she had managed to work the case for so many years and yet, to everyone else, his identity remained a mystery.

"There's always the hypnosis," Jane suggested quietly.

"Oh no, not that again," she said with an insufferable sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you? No!"

"But-"

"I was unconscious before I had a chance to see his face. And even if I had-"

"Yes?"

They both fell briefly silent. That had been altogether far too close for comfort. She had nearly let slip about his styling, the long coat, the leather gloves, the mask he had taken to wearing. If Jane realized she knew more than she had let him know, he would have had a field day.

"It was dark and therefore, an unreliable account."

"Or so you say."

"It's all in Bosco's report."

"Ah yes, but his report says that Red John had already disappeared by the time he found you," Jane said simply. "Ergo, that makes you and I the sole survivors of any of Red John's killings. Isn't it about time we exchanged notes?"

She ran a hand through her hair. Of course Jane was going to be persistent. He always was, whenever he got a bit between his teeth.

"And I've already told you everything I know. Stop wasting my time, Jane. Unlike some people, I have work to do."


	10. Part Ten

"John, come on, answer your damn phone."

She tapped her foot irritably as she pressed the cell phone to her ears. It wasn't her work one; Lisbon wouldn't dare give him that number. Unlike certain people she knew, she didn't have that kind of bravado. Besides, it kind of felt like it would have been tempting fate if she had done so. No, instead she had bought herself a phone especially to use when contacting John. Whenever it wasn't in use, she kept it firmly locked in her safe, along with the other items she didn't want anyone else knowing about. Jane was right; it was a logical place to look for LaRoche's deep, dark secret. After all, it was where she kept all of hers.

Annoyed, she slammed the device back down and glared at it as if it were at fault. She knew that there could have been any number of reasons for him to be unable to answer, but still she was annoyed. John always crept up on her when she least wanted it and least expected it and yet, when she wanted him, he was always virtually impossible to contact. Half the reason she had given him a phone last time she had seen him was for emergencies like this. And yet, it was proving to be a complete waste of time and resources.

Lisbon hadn't been sleeping well since Madeleine Hightower had been named California's Most Wanted, even above Red John himself. She wasn't sure if she could hack another restless night and that was why she was running down the credit on her pay as you go cell phone. With Jane acting stranger than ever, she needed to know whether or not Hightower had been in league with John. If she had, it would have explained Jane's behavior around the ex-Senior Special Agent. And if not, it meant that she had just become corrupted all on her own.

Not that Lisbon was in any place to judge and she knew it.

If her hunch was correct, then Lisbon knew she had every right to be concerned. How many cops within the CBI walls were under Red John's thrall? She had always assumed that she was the only one, that everybody else was as honest as their intentions had been the day they signed up to join the Academy. How many more lies were wrapped within lies? And how come all these other moles and associates were expendable but she, Teresa Lisbon, was not?

She shook her head; she already knew the answer to the last one.

Reluctantly, she placed the cell phone back in the safe and locked it. There was only so many times she could attempt to call him without ending up furious with him and the world. Instead, she knew it was about time to go and at least try to sleep again. If she didn't attempt to do so, then one day, she knew she would inevitably end up with sleeping patterns as bad as Jane's.

xxx

"I'm going to do it. I'm going to turn myself in," John said with a resolve that sounded like it couldn't be shaken.

"Really?" Lisbon questioned, completely taken off guard. "Do… do you want me to…"

"No. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Thanks, I guess."

Lisbon wasn't sure whether or not it was kind of him to do that. If she arrested him, then naturally, it would make her career. However, the very idea of putting handcuffs around his wrists made her feel uncomfortable. Not because she would have been arresting him, but because of where it would inevitably lead. Once behind bars, she would never have an excuse to see him again. Even watching his execution, so that he wouldn't be alone when he died, would be hard to justify to everybody else. It wasn't the done thing for cops to watch those they'd caught be killed. Once the case was closed and handed over to the DA, that was it. They had done their job and it was in the hands of the lawyers to decide if they were guilty and if so, what their punishment should be.

"Don't worry, nobody knows - or will know - of our connection. I've made sure of that."

"Don't you think I have too?" she answered back, annoyed that he didn't believe she had the same foresight as him.

"Your mind doesn't work like mine. Or Mr. Jane's, for that matter. I see things that you don't."

"Whatever."

"You don't deserve to go to jail."

"Don't I?"

"No," he said firmly.

They fell into silence. Lisbon glanced warily at the other patrons and the bar staff. None of them seemed to have overheard their conversation. They were just getting on with their lives and expecting that she and John were doing much the same. Just a couple, having a quiet drinking together, somewhere off the beaten track.

"Before I do stop, I have a favor to ask of you," he said quietly.

"It seems like all I'm ever doing is handing out favors."

"I know, and this is the last one. I promise."

"Fine," she replied with a heavy sigh. "What is it this time?"

"I don't want you there when your team arrests me. Send Cho or Rigsby. Go stay with Ms. Hightower and her kids. You'll be safe there," he stated lightly and she nodded slightly in response. "I owe an explanation to Patrick Jane."

Almost immediately, she choked slightly on her vodka tonic. John had been the one to request the meeting in a dive of a bar and Lisbon had immediately obliged. After all, the text message had come out of the blue. Lisbon had spent months - literally - attempting to contact him, to no avail. It had been getting to the stage where she was beginning to assume the worst. That he had gotten too cocky for his own good and somebody unknown had killed him. Or that a victim had managed to overpower him. There was also the idea that a rival, a new serial killer waiting in the wings to expose him - or her - self, had killed him off as their first victim. Whichever way, she had been toying with the possibilities of his death, as much as it hurt her to do so. Hearing from him again had been a blessed relief.

"You do?"

"Yes. I think he's learned his lesson."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't. There's one thing - one person - he's been fixated on all these years and you know it."

"Exactly. He's living a half-life. One that not even you can snap him out of and that's saying something."

She didn't need John to tell her that one. In a way, she was glad that John had finally seen just how destructive his behavior had been on Jane. Instead of teaching him lessons in humility and honesty, it had only sent him spiraling down a path to losing his humanity. It may have taken longer than she had ever intended, but she was quietly pleased that John had finally seen the light. All Lisbon could do was hope that Jane would come to the same realizations too, but deep down, she knew that was less likely.

"Don't flatter me."

"Good grief, you can't take a compliment, even now?"

"Is this really the time for jokes?" she said with a scowl.

"Life's a game, Teresa, you need to lighten up."

Lisbon let out a hollow laugh. If life was a game, she wasn't quite sure which one. Possibly hangman, as that was reliant on making the right decisions to prevent your own death. And what with toeing the fine line between the law and a life of crime, it was certainly stressful enough to justify a game where the outcome was either life or death. Even now, she couldn't be sure whether or not she would be one of the lucky ones.

It mostly depended on how John's intended meeting with Jane went.

"Oh please. Are you sure about this?"

"As sure as I can be."

"He might kill you. If I'm not there…"

"You could say the same to him, I imagine."

"I could," she echoed, with a heavy sigh. "It shouldn't have come to this."

"I know. But it did."

xxx

She was still reeling about the discussion she had just shared with John when she arrived back home.

Deep down, she knew that this was what she had always wanted. To be given that proverbial free pass, to be finally allowed to live her life as she truly wanted. Red John was no longer a noose around her neck, threatening to hang her out to dry at any given moment. It was (almost) over, albeit many years after it should have been. In theory, the burden should have been lifted from her shoulders. She should have felt happier, freer than she had done for almost the entirety of her adult life.

However, theory and reality never went hand in hand.

Lisbon understood the repercussions of what John had said to her. It was entirely possible that she also understood them better than he did.

Briefly, she wondered if she should hand herself in as well. Even though she had worked tirelessly in California for years and had solved many major cases, she still felt indebted to society. That was a feeling that she suspected she would never be able to shake unless she did something about it. And the only something that she could think of doing that would ease her guilt was hand herself over. Yes, she would lose everything she had worked hard to achieve. The respect of her coworkers, the comfortable lifestyle she had come to enjoy, the security and sense of power she wielded as a cop. But she also knew that the sacrifice could be worth it, for her own peace of mind.

Then again, John had effectively said he would die for her. She hated seeing him so despondent about life, especially considering he had always been one of the most intense people she had ever known. Lisbon had always suspected that he had somehow managed to live ten lives in the space of one; it was always the impression he'd given her. Not that he ever spoke about personal feelings after her father's death. Ever since then, though close, they had also maintained their distance. And now, he just appeared to have had enough and yet been convinced she still had more to give. When she had met up with him, she had complained about being the one handing out all the favors, when really, this was the biggest one she could have ever asked of him.

Was she really willing to put herself in jail when he didn't want her anywhere near one?

Lisbon shook her head slightly. She was being ridiculous. This was something she had been dealing with all of her life. It made little sense to have a crisis of confidence now, just because one of her dearest friends had given up.

xxx

She winced as she walked through the corridors of the CBI headquarters.

Her doctors had advised her to take at least another week off work, but she couldn't wait. She needed answers and fast. Lying in bed and moping wasn't exactly productive. If anything, it was making things all the worse. For a start, Lisbon was easily bored when she didn't have something constructive to do. Then, there was the additional stress of nobody telling her anything but the bare bones about their cases. She even got the impression that they only told her the minimum amount of information simply to appease her. Instead, most people fobbed her off with tea and sympathy, which just infuriated her further. Just because she was injured, it didn't make her an invalid who was incapable of doing anything useful.

Lisbon had heard about Jane shooting the man suspected of being Red John within hours of waking from the general anesthetic. Naturally, that had been playing on her mind constantly and she had started trying desperately to call him from the moment she was back home. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer and she automatically thought the worst. It wasn't the first time she had feared for John's death, but this time around, there was a real and palpable threat in the form of Patrick Jane. She had never doubted Jane's conviction to kill Red John, however much she had tried to convince him not to.

What had surprised her was that Craig O'Laughlin had been a mole for John. And not only that, but he had shot her. Admittedly, it hadn't been a shot with the intention to kill, but that wasn't the point. John had always promised her that he wouldn't hurt her again, but like with Rebecca killing Bosco, O'Laughlin had only been acting on his instruction. This was why she hated all the secrecy and lies. If she had known that O'Laughlin was working for John, then she would have been more prepared for the shoot out. But then, she also would have worked out that John was nearing the end of his tether and beginning to give up. After all, he hadn't personally killed another victim since those kids in Salinger Mill and kidnapping Kristina Frye.

Her nerves multiplied tenfold as she entered the elevator to head up to their floor. Once she alighted, Lisbon found herself having to head straight to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach. She hadn't even realized just how unwell the situation was making her feel. But still, the next few minutes were going to give her confirmation of whether or not John was dead, it was only natural that it had some kind of effect on her. Lisbon also knew that if anyone had seen her, she could always have blamed it on the cocktail of drugs she was being forced to take to lessen the pain in her shoulder.

When she finally reached the bullpen, Van Pelt greeted her with a warm embrace. The youngest member of the Serious Crimes Unit looked pathetically sad, but there was little she could do about it. She had genuinely believed that O'Laughlin had fallen in love with her and that they would spend the rest of their lives together. Instead, she had helped shoot him to death in order to save their lives. Lisbon wished she could have something to say about the sorry situation, but words failed her. Then again, Van Pelt wasn't in the mood for small talk and instead immediately handed her a manila folder.

Carefully, Lisbon sat down on the leather couch in the bullpen. Holding her breath, she flicked through a couple of witness reports before she got to what she was looking for. Photographs of the crime scene and the deceased.

When she saw it wasn't John, she let out an inaudible sigh of relief. That meant he was probably still alive. Briefly, she wished she was alone, that she could laugh at the situation. Of course John wouldn't have actually met Jane face to face. He always managed to find a loop-hole, one way or another.

xxx

Lisbon only visited Jane once while he was behind bars. He was cold and aloof with her, but it didn't bother her too much. Jane seemed calm and at peace with himself. The emotions were foreign on his features and Lisbon wasn't sure whether or not she liked it. She had grown used to the element of danger hidden behind Jane's smile; it was half of the reason that made him so alluring. Not that she would ever admit that to anybody else; she sometimes had a hard time admitting it to herself as it was.

When he was bailed, he came straight back to the CBI headquarters. It surprised her that LaRoche had even allowed him within fifty feet of the building, never mind to actually consult on cases, considering he had a murder charge hanging over his head. Then again, it was also an ideal way to keep an eye on Jane, to make sure that he didn't skip town or do anything stupid. She wondered what legal and political logistics Jane's reappointment currently held, but quickly brushed them aside. It wasn't her job to worry about things like that; all she had to do was catch criminals and that was it.

At first, she was pleased to have him around again. Lisbon had missed him, especially during her recuperation. The last time she had been injured on the job, Jane had made sure she had been well stimulated and kept her entertained. This time, all she had was paperwork from cold cases. At least it was in the past now and she was fully healed.

However, unlike her shoulder, her relationship with Jane was different. He tended to avoid her as much as he could, refused to make eye contact with her. Instead of bothering Lisbon in her office, he opted to spend time with the others in the bullpen. Even when working cases, he was different. For some reason, he was happy enough to stick to her boundaries and do everything by the book. He didn't actively seek out trouble, nor did he bother to cause any. And yet, he always seemed to manage to have one eye on her, especially when she wasn't expecting him to. That was particularly disconcerting.

She didn't like it. Once again, it made her nervous. But equally, she knew it could have simply been the effect that jail had had on him. He'd spent longer in there than he had the first time around and places like that could change people. Her brother, Tommy, had been through the judicial system and came out a different person entirely. The last time she spoke to him, she'd discovered that he was working at the same care home where Joseph lived. At least one important person in her life had managed to come out right, in the end.

Somehow, when it came to Jane, she knew that was still a flaky argument, however.


	11. Part Eleven

"What are you doing here?" she moaned. "It's late and I'm tired."

Just when she had been considering heading to bed, Lisbon had heard a knock at the door. Opening it, she had been confused to see Jane standing there. She hadn't moved since he had been here last, but he had never made social calls in the past. And besides, with his current state of aloofness, she sincerely doubted that he had just dropped round for a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. She eyed him suspiciously and he offered her an altogether too [bright smile](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8159009/11/Follow-The-Yellow-Brick-Road), which made her feel even more uncomfortable. Something was going on, something which he clearly wasn't going to talk to her about. Instead, he was just going to hope that she would blindly follow as she had done so many times in the past.

"Been a break in the case, come on."

"But we cut our losses for the night and decided we'd [start](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8159009/11/Follow-The-Yellow-Brick-Road) early-"

"Van Pelt stayed on and found something."

"I saw her leave."

"Teresa…"

The use of her forename took her off guard. He very rarely called her anything except Lisbon, so it always triggered her alarm bells whenever he changed the status quo. Besides, she knew he was lying. She had waved Van Pelt off in the parking lot that evening, saw her drive off home, so Jane's story simply didn't [check](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8159009/11/Follow-The-Yellow-Brick-Road) out. And that could only reaffirmed her previous suspicions: that he wanted something and he wasn't ready to tell her what yet.

"You're lying to me," she said, sounding more confident than she actually felt.

"Oh, who's a clever one?" he answered sarcastically.

She took a couple of steps backwards. For some reason, she didn't feel safe in Jane's presence; a feeling she had never really had before. It was something about the look in his eyes, the fact he was lying and expecting her to pick up on it that worried her. All she wanted to do was put some distance between herself and him, just to give her more time should he react unexpectedly. Then again, the whole situation was completely and utterly absurd. The sooner things started making sense, the better. Lisbon had always hated the fact that Jane kept her in the dark during cases, claiming that she required her deniability. Now, she just wanted to know what the hell was going through his mind so she could try to  _help_  him.

"Jane? What's going on?" she asked.

He didn't answer her and instead, he moved his hand in his pocket. It was then that Lisbon saw the glint of the barrel of a gun. Immediately, she froze. How the hell had he managed to get hold of a weapon? Both his mental state and his criminalstatus meant it was illegal for him to be handling one. Obviously, he didn't care. Then again, what did he have to care about anymore? Lisbon quickly took this as a sign that Jane had finally lost it. Slowly, she tried to reach for the table, for her cell phone but Jane grabbed hold of her left arm roughly, preventing her from doing so.

"I really suggest you do as I say, Teresa," he said lightly, with a small smile. "You know I won't hesitate to use this again."

xxx

"So, which case have we supposedly had a break on?" she asked, after they had been traveling for five minutes or so.

"Red John," he replied simply.

"Oh of course. The Red John case we've just  _closed_ , I assume?"

"Oh I knew that wasn't Red John. It was just one of his associates," Jane said lightly, "brainwashed and hypnotized, of course. But I guess you knew that already."

Lisbon remained still and silent. She knew what was happening, however much she didn't want it to. In all honesty, this was something she had expected for years, to a certain extent. Jane saw things that others didn't and it had always surprised her that he had never called her up on it, until now. Somewhere along the line, she had grown complacent and somehow convinced herself that he wouldn't figure it out at all.

"Luckily for me, the man he sent  _was_ guilty of murder. Several, in fact. The security guard who poisoned Rebecca, Bosco's secretary? That was him. I recognized him immediately."

"Good for you," she answered sourly.

Jane had never told her that he had had his charges dropped, or at least reduced thanks to his services to the state of California and she assumed that this was confirmation of that. Nor had she appreciated the reminder of Bosco. He had sacrificed so much for her and she never had a chance to really show her gratitude. Instead, she had moved away from him, distanced herself because she had grown cold feet. Perhaps, if she had actually had the guts to stay around him, he would still have been alive and continued to protect her. Then again, he may well have also changed his mind and thrown her to the wolves. After all, Jane was appearing to do just that right at that very moment.

"Are you going to get to your point, or just keep waffling on?" she eventually added, realizing that he was staying surprisingly quiet.

"All in good time, Teresa. As impatient as ever, I see."

"Whatever."

He turned left. She still had no idea where Jane was taking her. Although he appeared calm and collected, Lisbon suspected that it was merely a mask. What she  _did_  know was that Jane was a killer now. Men who had done that - especially those who did not regret it for even half a second - tended to have a certain look in their eyes, She squirmed slightly. Lisbon knew that he was armed; it was how he had coerced her into his beloved Citroen, when she had been initially reluctant to oblige him. He had also made absolutely certain that she didn't have her gun with her too. Naturally, that made her feel uncomfortable, vulnerable in a way. Was he leading her to a secluded spot, taking her to her death? Right now, she couldn't tell what he was thinking and that was disconcerting her. She had thought, had assumed that she was fairly good at reading him now. They had worked together for long enough for her to manage to pick up a trick or two.

They fell into a stony silence once more. From the moment she had seen the gun in his hand, Lisbon had realized what was going on. That Jane had worked out that she had a connection with Red John. Now, he had probably discovered that he had killed the wrong man and was hoping to use her to lure him out. She just hoped that John would resist the temptation to reveal himself and that somehow, she would get out of this unscathed as well.

"After all this time, you still think it was Red John I was after when I joined the CBI again, don't you?"

"Of course I did - everyone did. Why else-"

"It was you," he said, cutting her off.

" _Me?_ "

"Yes, you," he replied with a roll of the eyes. "I knew you had a connection with him. You made it easy for me."

"You bast-"

"Ah, ah, none of that language. You brought it all on  _yourself_."

"I had no choice!" she shouted back, angrily.

"You could have - should have - reported his first murder! The fact that he killed so many other innocent people after his first victim, including my wife and child, that is  _your_ fault."

"I…"

The words died on her lips. Lisbon knew that it was impossible for him to understand her perspective, quite simply because his experiences with Red John were very different to her own. She felt sorry for him and everything he'd been through, genuinely she did, but Jane just couldn't - or didn't want to - see the other side to the story. The one where John was the complicated human being that he was, rather than just some demon from a fairytale.

She couldn't help it. At first, it was just a prickling at the corner of her eyes and then, almost unexpectedly, a tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto her hand. Lisbon looked down at it, almost shocked. Once upon a time, she had promised herself that she would never let another man drive her to tears. Clearly, she wasn't keeping that unwritten vow any longer. Besides, she didn't have the energy to fight against it anymore. What was the point?

"Mother Teresa, always thinks she can change people, whether it be her wayward brothers, broken team or serial killers," he snapped angrily and she flinched. "Well you thought wrong. Oh don't start crying, they're just crocodile tears."

"How can you be so cruel? After all we've done together-"

"Don't you get it? All these years, I was using your connection with Red John to make sure you  _both_ get what you deserve."

"You have no-"

"Evidence? Really? I have plenty."

"Like what?"

"You'll just have to wait to find out."

"These are just groundless accusations, Jane."

"Oh make up your mind what argument you're going with, will you?"

"I have nothing to say to you until you stop clutching at straws and start talking sense."

xxx

She knew she had somehow managed to fall asleep during the drive. Mostly, because they were now in San Francisco and she couldn't remember half of the journey. Then again, Lisbon hadn't lied to Jane when she'd told him she was tired. With a sigh, she stepped out of his Citroen and reluctantly followed him to the house. Not only did she not trust the slightly unhinged look in his eye, but she didn't like the sense of role reversal. Whenever they had previously entered a seemingly abandoned building together, she had been the one who was armed, not him.

Roughly, Jane nudged her in the small of her back and Lisbon glared at him. There was absolutely no need for him to treat her like this. Not yet, anyway. He hadn't explicitly proven to her that he knew what she'd done for all these years. Until then, she wished he had the common courtesy to treat her with respect. Then again, she already knew that he had none for her and really, for Jane, he was going easy on her.

"I'm going, I'm going."

Wordlessly, he coerced her towards the master bedroom. It was then that she realized exactly where she was. In all the time since she had last been there, the décor hadn't changed, nothing had. It was like it had been trapped in a time warp, waiting precisely for this moment to arrive. Lisbon glanced nervously at Jane and he remained entirely impassive. Tentatively, she took a step closer to the door and opened it. Once more, Jane nudged her and reluctantly, she entered the room. She didn't want to be here; there were too many memories that she had long since locked away and resolutely did _not_  want to revisit.

This was where John had killed his first victim. This was where  _she_  had painted the first, now iconic, Red John smiley face on the wall. It hadn't been painted over; the blood had decayed over time, but it was still  _there_.

"Why have you brought me here?" she growled at him.

Instead of answering, Jane smiled that annoying, smug smile that she had once loved as much as she hated. Now, she merely wanted to smack it off his face. Lisbon understood exactly what he was doing; she had witnessed him doing it to too many criminals for her not to. Unfortunately, she felt as though she had no choice but to play along. If she tried to run, well, he was armed and dangerous, quite literally. And she didn't doubt the concept that the rest of the team were probably not all that far behind.

With a nod, Jane indicated to the wardrobe. Lisbon jerked her head slightly and forced herself to move closer to it. Jane remained as calm as he had been ever since they had arrived in San Francisco and that made her feel uncomfortable. She knew him, knew that his mind was probably whirring away as she played her part in his plan. So much for John's great sacrifice for her. Jane was happily taking them both down, just as he had apparently always intended.

When she opened the wardrobe door, she yelped slightly as a corpse rolled out. Quickly, she scanned over the man's features and it didn't take her long to recognize him.

"John!" she yelled and knelt down beside him.

She pressed her fingers against his neck, trying desperately to feel for a pulse, although she knew that it was pointless. Three shots at point range to the heart meant that he never had a chance in hell of surviving. But still, Lisbon had to be absolutely certain of what she was seeing and the only way she could be was by touch. This was why he hadn't been answering her calls; though he hadn't died in the mall, Jane had somehow still managed to track him down. Lisbon stifled another sob, refusing to break down in front of Jane. How could he not see he was becoming what he had hunted?

When she stood up, with tears glistening in her eyes, she realized that the rest of the Serious Crimes Unit had joined them in the room, just as she had expected. Roughly, Cho grabbed her by the shoulder and pinned her against a wall. Her gaze remained fixated on John's body. He wasn't cruel, he wasn't wicked, he hadn't deserved this and neither did she. They had just taken two very different paths which had ended up with them both sacrificing themselves due to poor decisions. As Cho read her the Miranda rights, words she had said herself time and time again, her heart pounded and she barely heard them at all. It shouldn't have come to this, she thought, yet again. That was one of the last things John had said to her and he was right.

Without a word, Jane handed over her badge to Van Pelt and with it, part of her identity. He then turned to face Teresa, with a look of pity in his eyes. It was all too familiar; it was the same look she had offered him time and time again. Though his look wasn't sorrow for what had happened to her, but pity for what she had done to  _herself_. Teresa found that she couldn't look him in the eyes; she couldn't hold her gaze with any of them. It must have been such a shock for all of them, when Jane had told them the truth. And now, she couldn't bear to face their disappointment in her, even if it was for a decision she had made long before she had known any of them.

"I've heard of crooked cops, but you? You're the most crooked of the lot."

The cool metal encircled her wrist and Teresa winced as Cho tightened the handcuffs. He didn't show her any care and consideration, simply treated her as he would any other criminal. None of the team showed her even so much as a shred of sympathy, nor did she expect them to. She didn't deserve it and she was fully aware of that. Everyone made stupid mistakes during their life, it was just a simple fact that hers was more catastrophic than most. Still, she now had to pay her dues, it was expected of her - and really, it was about time.

That didn't make it any easier.


End file.
